LETTERS OF 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 




THE WOMAN HOMESTEADER 



v LETTERS 
OF A WOMAN 
HOMESTEADER 

BY 

Elinore Pruitt Stewart 

n 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 
BY N. C. WYETH 




BOSTON AND NEW YORK 

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 

<@bz mtoergitoe |&re#g Cambribge 

1914 



F7 



COPYRIGHT, I9I3 AND 1914, BY THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY CO. 
COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY ELINORE PRUITT STEWART 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 

Published May 1Q14 



JUN-2L 

©CIA374282 



PUBLISHERS' NOTE 

The writer of the following letters is a young 
woman who lost her husband in a railroad 
accident and went to Denver to seek support 
for herself and her two-year-old daughter, 
Jerrine. Turning her hand to the nearest 
work, she went out by the day as house- 
cleaner and laundress. Later, seeking to bet- 
ter herself, she accepted employment as a 
housekeeper for a well-to-do Scotch cattle- 
man, Mr. Stewart, who had taken up a 
quarter-section in Wyoming. The letters, 
written through several years to a former 
employer in Denver, tell the story of her new 
life in the new country. They are genuine 
letters, and are printed as written, except for 
occasional omissions and the alteration of 
some of the names. 

4 Park St. 



fl-/O80<f 



CONTENTS 

I. The Arrival at Burnt Fork .... 3 

II. Filing a Claim 7 

III. A Busy, Happy Summer 15 

IV. A Charming Adventure and Zebulon 

Pike 23 

V. Sedalia and Regalia 45 

VI. A Thanksgiving-Day Wedding ... 54 
VII. Zebulon Pike visits his Old Home . 60 

VIII. A Happy Christmas < 64 

IX. A Confession 77 

X. The Story of Cora Belle 81 

XI. Zebbie's Story 100 

XII. A Contented Couple .117 

XIII. Proving Up 133 

XIV. The New House 137 

XV. The "Stocking-Leg" Dinner . . .143 

XVI. The Horse-Thieves 157 

XVII. At Gavotte's Camp 180 

vii 



CONTENTS 

XVIII. The Homesteader's Marriage and a 

Little Funeral ........ 184 

XIX. The Adventure of the Christmas 

Tree 193 

XX. The Joys of Homesteading . . .213 

XXI. A Letter of Jerrine's 218 

XXII. The Efficient Mrs. O'Shaughnessy . 220 

XXIII. How it Happened 225 

XXIV. A Little Romance 230 

XXV. Among the Mormons 256 

XXVI. Success 279 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

The Woman Homesteader Frontispiece 

Jerrine was always such a Dear Little Pal 30 

Zebulon Pike 112 

The Stewart Cabin 138 

Gavotte 180 

Mrs. Louderer and Mrs. O'Shaughnessy . . 258 



LETTERS OF 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 



LETTERS OF 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

I 

THE ARRIVAL AT BURNT FORK 

Burnt Fork, Wyoming, 
April 1 8, 1909. 

Dear Mrs. Coney, — 

Are you thinking I am lost, like the Babes 
in the Wood? Well, I am not and I'm sure 
the robins would have the time of their lives 
getting leaves to cover me out here. I am 
'way up close to the" Forest Reserve of Utah, 
within half a mile of the line, sixty miles 
from the railroad. I was twenty- four hours 
on the train and two days on the stage, and 
oh, those two days! The snow was just be- 
ginning to melt and the mud was about the 
worst I ever heard of. 

The first stage we tackled was just about 
3 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

as rickety as it could very well be and I had 
to sit with the driver, who was a Mormon and 
so handsome that I was not a bit offended 
when he insisted on making love all the way, 
especially after he told me that he was a 
widower Mormon. But, of course, as I had 
no chaperone I looked very fierce (not that 
that was very difficult with the wind and 
mud as allies) and told him my actual opin- 
ion of Mormons in general and particular. 

Meantime my new employer, Mr. Stewart, 
sat upon a stack of baggage and was dread- 
fully concerned about something he calls his 
"Tookie," but I am unable to tell you what 
that is. The road, being so muddy, was full 
of ruts and the stage acted as if it had the 
hiccoughs and made us all talk as though we 
were affected in the same way. Once Mr. 
Stewart asked me if I did not think it a "gey 
duir trip." I told him he could call it gay if 
he wanted to, but it did n't seem very hila- 
rious to me. Every time the stage struck 
a rock or a rut Mr. Stewart would "hoot," 
4 



THE ARRIVAL AT BURNT FORK 

until I began to wish we would come to a 
hollow tree or a hole in the ground so he 
could go in with the rest of the owls. 

At last we "arriv," and everything is just 
lovely for me. I have a very, very comfort- 
able situation and Mr. Stewart is absolutely 
no trouble, for as soon as he has his meals he 
retires to his room and plays on his bagpipe, 
only he calls it his "bugpeep." It is "The 
Campbells are Coming," without variations, 
at intervals all day long and from seven till 
eleven at night. Sometimes I wish they 
would make haste and get here. 

There is a saddle horse especially for me 
and a little shotgun with which I am to kill 
sage chickens. We are between two trout 
streams, so you can think of me as being 
happy when the snow is through melting and 
the water gets clear. We have the finest 
flock of Plymouth Rocks and get so many 
nice eggs. It sure seems fine to have all the 
cream I want after my town experiences. 
Jerrine is making good use of all the good 
5 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

things we are having. She rides the pony to 
water every day. 

I have not filed on my land yet because the 
snow is fifteen feet deep on it, and I think 
I would rather see what I am getting, so will 
wait until summer. They have just three sea- 
sons here, winter and July and August. We 
are to plant our garden the last of May. 
When it is so I can get around I will see about 
land and find out all I can and tell you. 

I think this letter is about to reach thirty- 
secondly, so I will send you my sincerest love 
and quit tiring you. Please write me when 
you have time. 

Sincerely yours, 

Elinore Rupert. 



II 

FILING A CLAIM 

May 24, 1909. 

Dear, dear Mrs. Coney, — 

Well, I have filed on my land and am 
now a bloated landowner. I waited a long 
time to even see land in the reserve, and the 
snow is yet too deep, so I thought that as 
they have but three months of summer and 
spring together and as I wanted the land for 
a ranch anyway, perhaps I had better stay 
in the valley. So I have filed adjoining Mr. 
Stewart and I am well pleased. I have a 
grove of twelve swamp pines on my place, 
and I am going to build my house there. I 
thought it would be very romantic to live on 
the peaks amid the whispering pines, but I 
reckon it would be powerfully uncomfortable 
also, and I guess my twelve can whisper 
enough for me; and a dandy thing is, I have 
all the nice snow-water I want; a small 
7 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

stream runs right through the center of my 
land and I am quite near wood. 

A neighbor and his daughter were going 
to Green River, the county-seat, and said I 
might go along, so I did, as I could file there 
as well as at the land office; and oh, that 
trip ! I had more fun to the square inch than 
Mark Twain or Samantha Allen ever pro- 
voked. It took us a whole week to go and 
come. We camped out, of course, for in the 
whole sixty miles there was but one house, 
and going in that direction there is not a tree 
to be seen, nothing but sage, sand, and sheep. 
About noon the first day out we came near a 
sheep- wagon, and stalking along ahead of us 
was a lanky fellow, a herder, going home for 
dinner. Suddenly it seemed to me I should 
starve if I had to wait until we got where we 
had planned to stop for dinner, so I called 
out to the man, "Little Bo-Peep, have you 
anything to eat? If you have, we'd like to 
find it." And he answered, "As soon as I am 
able it shall be on the table, if you'll but 
8 



FILING A CLAIM 

trouble to get behind it." Shades of Shake- 
speare! Songs of David, the Shepherd Poet! 
What do you think of us? Well, we got be- 
hind it, and a more delicious ''it" I never 
tasted. Such coffee! And out of such a pot ! I 
promised Bo- Peep that I would send him a 
crook with pink ribbons on it, but I suspect 
he thinks I am a crook without the ribbons. 
The sagebrush is so short in some places 
that it is not large enough to make a fire, so 
we had to drive until quite late before we 
camped that night. After driving all day 
over what seemed a level desert of sand, we 
came about sundown to a beautiful canon, 
down which we had to drive for a couple of 
miles before we could cross. In the canon the 
shadows had already fallen, but when we 
looked up we could see the last shafts of sun- 
light on the tops of the great bare buttes. 
Suddenly a great wolf started from some- 
where and galloped along the edge of the 
canon, outlined black and clear by the set- 
ting sun. His curiosity overcame him at last, 
9 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

so he sat down and waited to see what man- 
ner of beast we were. I reckon he was dis- 
appointed for he howled most dismally. I 
thought of Jack London's "The Wolf." 

After we quitted the canon I saw the most 
beautiful sight. It seemed as if we were driv- 
ing through a golden haze. The violet shad- 
ows were creeping up between the hills, while 
away back of us the snow-capped peaks were 
catching the sun's last rays. On every side 
of us stretched the poor, hopeless desert, the 
sage, grim and determined to live in spite 
of starvation, and the great, bare, desolate 
buttes. The beautiful colors turned to amber 
and rose, and then to the general tone, dull 
gray. Then we stopped to camp, and such a 
scurrying around to gather brush for the fire 
and to get supper ! Everything tasted so good ! 
Jerrine ate like a man. Then we raised the 
wagon tongue and spread the wagon sheet 
over it and made a bedroom for us women. 
We made our beds on the warm, soft sand 
and went to bed. 

10 



FILING A CLAIM 

It was too beautiful a night to sleep, so I 
put my head out to look and to think. I saw 
the moon come up and hang for a while over 
the mountain as if it were discouraged with 
the prospect, and the big white stars flirted 
shamelessly with the hills. I saw a coyote 
come trotting along and I felt sorry for him, 
having to hunt food in so barren a place, but 
when presently I heard the whirr of wings I 
felt sorry for the sage chickens he had dis- 
turbed. At length a cloud came up and I 
went to sleep, and next morning was covered 
several inches with snow. It did n't hurt us a 
bit, but while I was struggling with stubborn 
corsets and shoes I communed with myself, 
after the manner of prodigals, and said: 
"How much better that I were down in Den- 
ver, even at Mrs. Coney's, digging with a 
skewer into the corners seeking dirt which 
might be there, yea, even eating codfish, than 
that I should perish on this desert — of im- 
agination." So I turned the current of my 
imagination and fancied that I was at home 
II 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

before the fireplace, and that the backlog 
was about to roll down. My fancy was in 
such good working trim that before I knew it 
I kicked the wagon wheel, and I certainly got 
as warm as the most "sot" Scientist that 
ever read Mrs. Eddy could possibly wish. 

After two more such days I "arrived." 
When I went up to the office where I was to 
file, the door was open and the most taciturn 
old man sat before a desk. I hesitated at the 
door, but he never let on. I coughed, yet no 
sign but a deeper scowl. I stepped in and 
modestly kicked over a chair. He whirled 
around like I had shot him. "Well?" he in- 
terrogated. I said, " I am powerful glad of it. 
I was afraid you were sick, you looked in 
such pain." He looked at me a minute, then 
grinned and said he thought I was a book- 
agent. Fancy me, a fat, comfortable widow, 
trying to sell books! 

Well, I filed and came home. If you will 
believe me, the Scot was glad to see me and 
did n't herald the Campbells for two hours 
12 



FILING A CLAIM 

after I got home. I '11 tell you, it is mighty 
seldom any one's so much appreciated. 

No, we have no rural delivery. It is two 
miles to the office, but I go whenever I like. 
It is really the jolliest kind of fun to gallop 
down. We are sixty miles from the railroad, 
but when we want anything we send by the 
mail-carrier for it, only there is nothing to 
get. 

I know this is an inexcusably long letter, 
but it is snowing so hard and you know how I 
like to talk. I am sure Jerrine will enjoy the 
cards and we will be glad to get them. Many 
things that are a comfort to us out here came 

from dear Mrs. . Baby has the rabbit 

you gave her last Easter a year ago. In Den- 
ver I was afraid my baby would grow up 
devoid of imagination. Like all the kinder- 
gartners, she depended upon others to amuse 
her. I was very sorry about it, for my castles 
in Spain have been real homes to me. But 
there is no fear. She has a block of wood she 
found in the blacksmith shop which she calls 
13 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

her "dear baby." A spoke out of a wagon 
wheel is "little Margaret," and a barrel- 
stave is "bad little Johnny." 

Well, I must quit writing before you vote 
me a nuisance. With lots of love to you, 
Your sincere friend, 

Elinore Rupert. 



Ill 

A BUSY, HAPPY SUMMER 

September II, 1909. 

Dear Mrs. Coney, — 

This has been for me the busiest, happiest 
summer I can remember. I have worked 
very hard, but it has been work that I really 
enjoy. Help of any kind is very hard to get 
here, and Mr. Stewart had been too confident 
of getting men, so that haying caught him 
with too few men to put up the hay. He had 
no man to run the mower and he could n't 
run both the mower and the stacker, so you 
can fancy what a place he was in. 

I don't know that I ever told you, but my 
parents died within a year of each other and 
left six of us to shift for ourselves. Our people 
offered to take one here and there among 
them until we should all have a place, but 
we refused to be raised on the halves and so 
15 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

arranged to stay at Grandmother's and keep 
together. Well, we had no money to hire men 
to do our work, so had to learn to do it our- 
selves. Consequently I learned to do many 
things which girls more fortunately situated 
don't even know have to be done. Among 
the things I learned to do was the way to run 
a mowing-machine. It cost me many bitter 
tears because I got sunburned, and my hands 
were hard, rough, and stained with machine 
oil, and I used to wonder how any Prince 
Charming could overlook all that in any girl 
he came to. For all I had ever read of the 
Prince had to do with his "reverently kissing 
her lily-white hand," or doing some other fool 
trick with a hand as white as a snowflake. 
Well, when my Prince showed up he did n't 
lose much time in letting me know that 
"Barkis was willing," and I wrapped my 
hands in my old checked apron and took him 
up before he could catch his breath. Then 
there was no more mowing, and I almost for- 
got that I knew how until Mr. Stewart got 
16 



A BUSY, HAPPY SUMMER 

into such a panic. If he put a man to mow, it 
kept them all idle at the stacker, and he just 
could n't get enough men. I was afraid to 
tell him I could mow for fear he would forbid 
me to do so. But one morning, when he was 
chasing a last hope of help, I went down to 
the barn, took out the horses, and went to 
mowing. I had enough cut before he got 
back to show him I knew how, and as he 
came back manless he was delighted as well 
as surprised. I was glad because I really like 
to mow, and besides that, I am adding feath- 
ers to my cap in a surprising way. When you 
see me again you will think I am wearing a 
feather duster, but it is only that I have been 
said to have almost as much sense as a 
"mon," and that is an honor I never aspired 
to, even in my wildest dreams. 

I have done most of my cooking at night, 
have milked seven cows every day, and have 
done all the hay-cutting, so you see I have 
been working. But I have found time to put 
up thirty pints of jelly and the same amount 
17 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

of jam for myself. I used wild fruits, goose- 
berries, currants, raspberries, and cherries. I 
have almost two gallons of the cherry butter, 
and I think it is delicious. I wish I could get 
some of it to you, I am sure you would like it. 
We began haying July 5 and finished Sep- 
tember 8. After working so hard and so 
steadily I decided on a day off, so yester- 
day I saddled the pony, took a few things I 
needed, and Jerrine and I fared forth. Baby 
can ride behind quite well. We got away by 
sunup and a glorious day we had. We fol- 
lowed a stream higher up into the mountains 
and the air was so keen and clear at first 
we had on our coats. There was a tang of 
sage and of pine in the air, and our horse was 
midside deep in rabbit-brush, a shrub just 
covered with flowers that look and smell 
like goldenrod. The blue distance promised 
many alluring adventures, so we went along 
singing and simply gulping in summer. Occa- 
sionally a bunch of sage chickens would fly 
up out of the sagebrush, or a jack rabbit 
18 



A BUSY, HAPPY SUMMER 

would leap out. Once we saw a bunch of 
antelope gallop over a hill, but we were out 
just to be out, and game did n't tempt us. I 
started, though, to have just as good a time as 
possible, so I had a fish-hook in my knapsack. 

Presently, about noon, we came to a little 
dell where the grass was as soft and as green 
as a lawn. The creek kept right up against 
the hills on one side and there were groves 
of quaking asp and cottonwoods that made 
shade, and service-bushes and birches that 
shut off the ugly hills on the other side. We 
dismounted and prepared to noon. We 
caught a few grasshoppers and I cut a birch 
pole for a rod. The trout are so beautiful now, 
their sides are so silvery, with dashes of old 
rose and orange, their speckles are so black, 
while their backs look as if they had been 
sprinkled with gold-dust. They bite so well 
that it does n't require any especial skill or 
tackle to catch plenty for a meal in a few 
minutes. 

In a little while I went back to where I had 
19 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

left my pony browsing, with eight beauties. 
We made a fire first, then I dressed my trout 
while it was burning down to a nice bed of 
coals. I had brought a frying-pan and a 
bottle of lard, salt, and buttered bread. We 
gathered a few service-berries, our trout were 
soon browned, and with water, clear, and as 
cold as ice, we had a feast. The quaking 
aspens are beginning to turn yellow, but no 
leaves have fallen. Their shadows dimpled 
and twinkled over the grass like happy chil- 
dren. The sound of the dashing, roaring 
water kept inviting me to cast for trout, but 
I did n't want to carry them so far, so we 
rested until the sun was getting low and then 
started for home, with the song of the locusts 
in our ears warning us that the melancholy 
days are almost here. We would come up 
over the top of a hill into the glory of a 
beautiful sunset with its gorgeous colors, 
then down into the little valley already pur- 
pling with mysterious twilight. So on, until, 
just at dark, we rode into our corral and a 
20 



A BUSY, HAPPY SUMMER 

mighty tired, sleepy little girl was powerfully 
glad to get home. 

After I had mailed my other letter I was 
afraid that you would think me plumb bold 
about the little Bo- Peep, and was a heap 
sorrier than you can think. If you only knew 
the hardships these poor men endure. They 
go two together and sometimes it is months 
before they see another soul, and rarely ever 
a woman. I would n't act so free in town, but 
these men see people so seldom that they are 
awkward and embarrassed. I like to put 
them at ease, and it is to be done only by 
being kind of hail-fellow-well-met with them. 
So far not one has ever misunderstood me 
and I have been treated with every courtesy 
and kindness, so I am powerfully glad you 
understand. They really enjoy doing these 
little things like fixing our dinner, and if my 
poor company can add to any one's pleasure 
I am too glad. 

Sincerely yours, 

Elinore Rupert. 
21 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

Mr. Stewart is going to put up my house 
for me in pay for my extra work. 

I am ashamed of my long letters to you, 
but I am such a murderer of language that I 
have to use it all to tell anything. 

Please don't entirely forget me. Your 
letters mean so much to me and I will try to 
answer more promptly. 



IV 

A CHARMING ADVENTURE AND ZEBULON PIKE 

September 28, 1909. 

Dear Mrs. Coney, — 

Your second card just reached me and I 
am plumb glad because, although I answered 
your other, I was wishing I could write you, 
for I have had the most charming adventure. 

It is the custom here for as many women 
as care to to go in a party over into Utah to 
Ashland (which is over a hundred miles away) 
after fruit. They usually go in September, 
and it takes a week to make the trip. They 
take wagons and camp out and of course 
have a good time, but, the greater part of the 
way, there is n't even the semblance of a road 
and it is merely a semblance anywhere. They 
came over to invite me to join them. I was of 
two minds — I wanted to go, but it seemed 
a little risky and a big chance for discomfort, 
23 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

since we would have to cross the Uinta 
Mountains, and a snowstorm likely any 
time. But I did n't like to refuse outright, so 
we left it to Mr. Stewart. His "Ye 're nae 
gang" sounded powerful final, so the ladies 
departed in awed silence and I assumed a 
martyr-like air and acted like a very much 
abused woman, although he did only what I 
wanted him to do. At last, in sheer despera- 
tion he told me the " bairn canna stand the 
treep," and that was why he was so deter- 
mined. I knew why, of course, but I con- 
tinued to look abused lest he gets it into his 
head that he can boss me. After he had been 
reduced to the proper plane of humility and 
had explained and begged my pardon and 
had told me to consult only my own pleasure 
about going and coming and using his horses, 
only not to "expoose" the bairn, why, I for- 
gave him and we were friends once more. 

Next day all the men left for the round- 
up, to be gone a week. I knew I never could 
stand myself a whole week. In a little while 
24 



A CHARMING ADVENTURE 

the ladies came past on their way to Ashland. 
They were all laughing and were so happy 
that I really began to wish I was one of the 
number, but they went their way and I kept 
wanting to go somewhere. I got reckless and 
determined to do something real bad. So I 
went down to the barn and saddled Robin 
Adair, placed a pack on " Jeems McGregor," 
then Jerrine and I left for a camping-out 
expedition. 

It was nine o'clock when we started and 
we rode hard until about four, when I turned 
Robin loose, saddle and all, for I knew he 
would go home and some one would see him 
and put him into the pasture. We had gotten 
to where we could n't ride anyway, so I put 
Jerrine on the pack and led "Jeems" for 
about two hours longer; then, as I had come 
to a good place to camp, we stopped. 

While we had at least two good hours of 

daylight, it gets so cold here in the evening 

that fire is very necessary. We had been 

climbing higher into the mountains all day 

25 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

and had reached a level tableland where the 
grass was luxuriant and there was plenty of 
wood and water. I unpacked "Jeems" and 
staked him out, built a roaring fire, and made 
our bed in an angle of a sheer wall of rock 
where we would be protected against the 
wind. Then I put some potatoes into the 
embers, as Baby and I are both fond of 
roasted potatoes. I started to a little spring 
to get water for my coffee when I saw a 
couple of jack rabbits playing, so I went 
back for my little shotgun. I shot one of the 
rabbits, so I felt very like Leather-stocking 
because I had killed but one when I might 
have gotten two. It was fat and young, and 
it was but the work of a moment to dress it 
and hang it up on a tree. Then I fried some 
slices of bacon, made myself a cup of coffee, 
and Jerrine and I sat on the ground and ate. 
Everything smelled and tasted so good ! This 
air is so tonic that one gets delightfully 
hungry. Afterward we watered and restaked 
"Jeems," I rolled some logs on to the fire, 
26 



A CHARMING ADVENTURE 

and then we sat and enjoyed the pros- 
pect. 

The moon was so new that its light was 
very dim, but the stars were bright. Pres- 
ently a long, quivering wail arose and was 
answered from a dozen hills. It seemed just 
the sound one ought to hear in such a place. 
When the howls ceased for a moment we 
could hear the subdued roar of the creek and 
the crooning of the wind in the pines. So we 
rather enjoyed the coyote chorus and were 
not afraid, because they don't attack people. 
Presently we crept under our Navajos and, 
being tired, were soon asleep. 

I was awakened by a pebble striking my 
cheek. Something prowling on the bluff 
above us had dislodged it and it struck me. 
By my Waterbury it was four o'clock, so I 
arose and spitted my rabbit. The logs had 
left a big bed of coals, but some ends were 
still burning and had burned in such a man- 
ner that the heat would go both under and 
over my rabbit. So I put plenty of bacon 
27 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

grease over him and hung him up to roast. 
Then I went back to bed. I did n't want to 
start early because the air is too keen for 
comfort early in the morning. 

The sun was just gilding the hilltops when 
we arose. Everything, even the barrenness, 
was beautiful. We have had frosts, and the 
quaking aspens were a trembling field of gold 
as far up the stream as we could see. We 
were 'way up above them and could look far 
across the valley. We could see the silvery 
gold of the willows, the russet and bronze of 
the currants, and patches of cheerful green 
showed where the pines were. The splendor 
was relieved by a background of sober gray- 
green hills, but even on them gay streaks 
and patches of yellow showed where rabbit- 
brush grew. We washed our faces at the 
spring, — the grasses that grew around the 
edge and dipped into the water were loaded 
with ice, — our rabbit was done to a turn, 
so I made some delicious coffee, Jerrine got 
herself a can of water, and we breakfasted. 
28 



A CHARMING ADVENTURE 

Shortly afterwards we started again. We 
did n't know where we were going, but we 
were on our way. 

That day was more toilsome than the last, 
but a very happy one. The meadowlarks 
kept singing like they were glad to see us. 
But we were still climbing and soon got be- 
yond the larks and sage chickens and up into 
the timber, where there are lots of grouse. 
We stopped to noon by a little lake, where I 
got two small squirrels and a string of trout. 
We had some trout for dinner and salted the 
rest with the squirrels in an empty can for 
future use. I was anxious to get a grouse and 
kept close watch, but was never quick enough. 
Our progress was now slower and more diffi- 
cult, because in places we could scarcely get 
through the forest. Fallen trees were every- 
where and we had to avoid the branches, 
which was powerful hard to do. Besides, it 
was quite dusky among the trees long before 
night, but it was all so grand and awe- 
inspiring. Occasionally there was an opening 
29 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

through which we could see the snowy peaks, 
seemingly just beyond us, toward which we 
were headed. But when you get among such 
grandeur you get to feel how little you are 
and how foolish is human endeavor, except 
that which reunites us with the mighty force 
called God. I was plumb uncomfortable, 
because all my own efforts have always been 
just to make the best of everything and to 
take things as they come. 

At last we came to an open side of the 
mountain where the trees were scattered. 
We were facing south and east, and the moun- 
tain we were on sheered away in a dangerous 
slant. Beyond us still greater wooded moun- 
tains blocked the way, and in the canon 
between night had already fallen. I began to 
get scary. I could only think of bears and 
catamounts, so, as it was five o'clock, we 
decided to camp. The trees were immense. 
The lower branches came clear to the ground 
and grew so dense that any tree afforded a 
splendid shelter from the weather, but I was 
30 




JERRINE WAS ALWAYS SUCH A DEAR LITTLE PAL 



A CHARMING ADVENTURE 

nervous and wanted one that would protect 
us against any possible attack. At last 
we found one growing in a crevice of what 
seemed to be a sheer wall of rock. Nothing 
could reach us on two sides, and in front two 
large trees had fallen so that I could make a 
log heap which would give us warmth and 
make us safe. So with rising spirits I un- 
packed and prepared for the night. I soon 
had a roaring fire up against the logs and, 
cutting away a few branches, let the heat 
into as snug a bedroom as any one could wish. 
The pine needles made as soft a carpet as 
the wealthiest could afford. Springs abound 
in the mountains, so water was plenty. I 
staked "Jeems" quite near so that the fire- 
light would frighten away any wild thing 
that tried to harm him. Grass was very 
plentiful, so when he was made "comfy" I 
made our bed and fried our trout. The 
branches had torn off the bag in which I 
had my bread, so it was lost in the forest, 
but who needs bread when they have good, 
31 






A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

mealy potatoes? In a short time we were 
eating like Lent was just over. We lost all 
the glory of the sunset except what we got by 
reflection, being on the side of the mountain 
we were, with the dense woods between. Big 
sullen clouds kept drifting over and a wind 
got lost in the trees that kept them rocking 
and groaning in a horrid way. But we were 
just as cozy as we could be and rest was as 
good as anything. 

I wish you could once sleep on the kind of 
bed we enjoyed that night. It was both soft 
and firm, with the clean, spicy smell of the 
pine. The heat from our big fire came in and 
we were warm as toast. It was so good to 
stretch out and rest. I kept thinking how 
superior I was since I dared to take such an 
outing when so many poor women down in 
Denver were bent on making their twenty 
cents per hour in order that they could spare a 
quarter to go to the " show." I went to sleep 
with a powerfully self-satisfied feeling, but I 
awoke to realize that pride goeth before a fall. 
32 



A CHARMING ADVENTURE 

I could hardly remember where I was when 
I awoke, and I could almost hear the silence. 
Not a tree moaned, not a branch seemed to 
stir. I arose and my head came in violent 
contact with a snag that was not there when 
I went to bed. I thought either I must have 
grown taller or the tree shorter during the 
night. As soon as I peered out, the mystery 
was explained. 

Such a snowstorm I never saw! The snow 
had pressed the branches down lower, hence 
my bumped head. Our fire was burning 
merrily and the heat kept the snow from in 
front. I scrambled out and poked up the fire; 
then, as it was only five o'clock, I went back 
to bed. And then I began to think how many 
kinds of idiot I was. Here I was thirty or 
forty miles from home, in the mountains 
where no one goes in the winter and where I 
knew the snow got to be ten or fifteen feet 
deep. But I could never see the good of mop- 
ing, so I got up and got breakfast while Baby 
put her shoes on. We had our squirrels and 
33 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

more baked potatoes and I had delicious 
black coffee. 

After I had eaten I felt more hopeful. I 
knew Mr. Stewart would hunt for me if he 
knew I was lost. It was true, he would n't 
know which way to start, but I determined 
to rig up " Jeems" and turn him loose, for I 
knew he would go home and that he would 
leave a trail so that I could be found. I 
hated to do so, for I knew I should always 
have to be powerfully humble afterwards. 
Anyway it was still snowing, great, heavy 
flakes; they looked as large as dollars. I 
did n't want to start "Jeems" until the snow 
stopped because I wanted him to leave a 
clear trail. I had sixteen loads for my gun 
and I reasoned that I could likely kill enough 
food to last twice that many days by being 
careful what I shot at. It just kept snowing, 
so at last I decided to take a little hunt and 
provide for the day. I left Jerrine happy 
with the towel rolled into a baby, and went 
along the brow of the mountain for almost 
34 



A CHARMING ADVENTURE 

a mile, but the snow fell so thickly that I 
could n't see far. Then I happened to look 
down into the canon that lay east of us and 
saw smoke. I looked toward it a long time, 
but could make out nothing but smoke, but 
presently I heard a dog bark and I knew I 
was near a camp of some kind. I resolved to 
join them, so went back to break my own 
camp. 

At last everything was ready and Jerrine 
and I both mounted. Of all the times! If 
you think there is much comfort, or even 
security, in riding a pack-horse in a snow- 
storm over mountains where there is no road, 
you are plumb wrong. Every once in a while 
a tree would unload its snow down our backs. 
" Jeems" kept stumbling and threatening to 
break our necks. At last we got down the 
mountain-side, where new danger confronted 
us, — we might lose sight of the smoke or 
ride into a bog. But at last, after what 
seemed hours, we came into a "clearing" 
with a small log house and, what is rare in 
35 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

Wyoming, a fireplace. Three or four hounds 
set up their deep baying, and I knew by 
the chimney and the hounds that it was the 
home of a Southerner. A little old man came 
bustling out, chewing his tobacco so fast, and 
almost frantic about his suspenders, which it 
seemed he could n't get adjusted. 

As I rode up, he said, " Whither, friend?" 
I said ''Hither." Then he asked, "Air you 
spying around for one of them dinged game 
wardens arter that deer I killed yisteddy?" 
I told him I had never even seen a game 
warden and that I did n't know he had killed 
a deer. "Wall," he said, "air you spying 
around arter that gold mine I diskivered 
over on the west side of Baldy?" But after 
a while I convinced him that I was no more 
nor less than a foolish woman lost in the 
snow. Then he said, "Light, stranger, and 
look at your saddle." So I "lit" and looked, 
and then I asked him what part of the South 
he was from. He answered, "Yell County, 
by gum ! The best place in the United States, 

36 



A CHARMING ADVENTURE 

cr ~n the world, either/' That was my intro- 
duction to Zebulon Pike Parker. 

Only two "Johnny Rebs" could have 
enjoyed each other's company as Zebulon 
Pike and myself did. He was so small and 
so old, but so cheerful and so sprightly, and 
a real Southerner! He had a big, open fire- 
place with backlogs and andirons. How I 
enjoyed it all ! How we feasted on some of the 
deer killed "yisteddy," and real corn-pone 
baked in a skillet down on the hearth. He 
was so full of happy recollections and had a 
few that were not so happy! He is, in some 
way, a kinsman of Pike of Pike's Peak fame, 
and he came west "jist arter the wah" on 
some expedition and "jist stayed." He told 
me about his home life back in Yell County, 
and I feel that I know all the "young 
uns." 

There was George Henry, his only brother ; 

and there were Phoebe and " Mothie," whose 

real name is Martha; and poor little Mary 

Ann, whose death was described so feelingly 

37 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

that no one could keep back the tears. Lastly 
there was little Mandy, the baby and his 
favorite, but who, I am afraid, was a selfish 
little beast since she had to have her pru- 
nellas when all the rest of the ''young uns" 
had to wear shoes that old Uncle Buck made 
out of rawhide. But then ' ' her eyes were blue 
as morning-glories and her hair was jist like 
corn-silk, so yaller and fluffy." Bless his 
simple, honest heart! His own eyes are blue 
and kind, and his poor, thin little shoulders 
are so round that they almost meet in front. 
How he loved to talk of his boyhood days) 
I can almost see his father and George Henry 
as they marched away to the "wah" to- 
gether, and the poor little mother's despair 
as she waited day after day for some word, 
that never came. 

Poor little Mary Ann was drowned in the 
bayou, where she was trying to get water- 
lilies. She had wanted a white dress all 
her life and so, when she was dead, they 
took down the white cross-bar curtains and 
38 



A CHARMING ADVENTURE 

Mother made the little shroud by the light 
of a tallow dip. But, being made by hand, 
it took all the next day, too, so that they 
buried her by moonlight down back of the 
orchard under the big elm where the children 
had always had their swing. And they lined 
and covered her grave with big, fragrant 
water-lilies. As they lowered the poor little 
home-made coffin into the grave the mock- 
ingbirds began to sing and they sang all 
that dewy, moonlight night. Then little 
Mandy's wedding to Judge Carter's son Jim 
was described. She wore a "cream-colored 
poplin with a red rose thro wed up in it," 
and the lace that was on Grandma's wed- 
ding dress. There were bowers of sweet 
Southern roses and honeysuckle and wis- 
taria. Don't you know she was a dainty 
bride? 

At last it came out that he had not heard 

from home since he left it. " Don't you ever 

write?" I asked. "No, I am not an eddi- 

cated man, although I started to school. 

39 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

Yes'm, I started along of the rest, but they 
told me it was a Yankee teacher and I was 
'fraid, so when I got most to the schoolhouse 
I hid in the bushes with my spelling-book, so 
that is all the learning I ever got. But my 
mother was an eddicated woman, yes'm, she 
could both read and write. I have the Bible 
she give me yit. Yes'm, you jist wait and 
I'll show you." After some rummaging in 
a box he came back with a small leather- 
bound Bible with print so small it was hard 
to read. After turning to the record of births 
and deaths he handed it to me, his wrinkled 
old face shining with pride as he said, "There, 
my mother wrote that with her own hand." 
I took the book and after a little deciphered 
that "Zebulon Pike Parker was born Feb. 
io, 1830," written in the stiff, difficult style 
of long ago and written with pokeberry ink. 
He said his mother used to read about some 
"old feller that was jist covered with biles," 
so I read Job to him, and he was full of sur- 
prise they did n't "git some cherry bark and 
40 



A CHARMING ADVENTURE 

some sasparilly and bile it good and gin it to 
him." 

He had a side room to his cabin, which was 
his bedroom; so that night he spread down 
a buffalo robe and two bearskins before 
the fire for Jerrine and me. After making 
sure there were no moths in them, I spread 
blankets over them and put a sleepy, happy 
little girl to bed, for he had insisted on mak- 
ing molasses candy for her because they hap- 
pened to be born on the same day of the 
month. And then he played the fiddle until 
almost one o'clock. He played all the simple, 
sweet, old-time pieces, in rather a squeaky, 
jerky way, I am afraid, but the music suited 
the time and the place. 

Next morning he called me early and when 
I went out I saw such a beautiful sunrise, 
well worth the effort of coming to see. I had 
thought his cabin in a canon, but the snow 
had deceived me, for a few steps from the 
door the mountains seemed to drop down 
suddenly for several hundred feet and the 
4i 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

first of the snow peaks seemed to lie right at 
our feet. Around its base is a great swamp, 
in which the swamp pines grow very thickly 
and from which a vapor was rising that got 
about halfway up the snow peak all around. 
Fancy to yourself a big jewel-box of dark 
green velvet lined with silver chiffon, the 
snow peak lying like an immense opal in its 
center and over all the amber light of a new 
day. That is what it looked most like. 

Well, we next went to the corral, where I 
was surprised to find about thirty head of 
sheep. Some of them looked like they should 
have been sold ten years before. "Don't 
you ever sell any of your sheep?" I asked. 
"No'm. There was a feller come here once 
and wanted to buy some of my wethers, but 
I would n't sell any because I did n't need 
any money." Then he went from animal to 
animal, caressing each and talking to them, 
calling them each by name. He milked his 
one cow, fed his two little mules, and then 
we went back to the house to cook breakfast. 
42 



A CHARMING ADVENTURE 

We had delicious venison steak, smoking 
hot, and hoe-cakes and the "bestest" coffee, 
and honey. 

After breakfast we set out for home. Our 
pack transferred to one of the little mules, 
we rode "Jeems," and Mr. Parker rode the 
other mule. He took us another way, down 
canon after canon, so that we were able to 
ride all the time and could make better 
speed. We came down out of the snow and 
camped within twelve miles of home in an 
old, deserted ranch house. We had grouse 
and sage chicken for supper. I was so anx- 
ious to get home that I could hardly sleep, 
but at last I did and was only awakened by 
the odor of coffee, and barely had time to 
wash before Zebulon Pike called breakfast. 
Afterwards we fixed " Jeems's" pack so that 
I could still ride, for Zebulon Pike was very 
anxious to get back to his "critters." 

Poor, lonely, childlike little man! He 
tried to tell me how glad he had been to 
entertain me. "Why," he said, "I was 
43 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

plumb glad to see you and right sorry to have 
you go. Why, I would jist as soon talk to 
you as to a nigger. Yes'm, I would. It has 
been almost as good as talking to old Aunt 
Dilsey. ,, If a Yankee had said the same to 
me I would have demanded instant apology, 
but I know how the Southern heart longs for 
the dear, kindly old "niggers," so I came on 
homeward, thankful for the first time that I 
can't talk correctly. 

I got home at twelve and found, to my joy, 
that none of the men had returned, so I 
am safe from their superiority for a while, at 
least. 

With many apologies for this outrageous 
letter, I am 

Your ex-Washlady, 

Elinore Rupert. 



V 

SEDALIA AND REGALIA 

November 22, 1909. 

My dear Friend, — 

I was dreadfully afraid that my last letter 
was too much for you and now I feel plumb 
guilty. I really don't know how to write you, 
for I have to write so much to say so little, 
and now that my last letter made you sick I 
almost wish so many things did n't happen 
to me, for I always want to tell you. Many 
things have happened since I last wrote, and 
Zebulon Pike is not done for by any means, 
but I guess I will tell you my newest experi- 
ence. 

I am making a wedding dress. Don't grin; 
it isn't mine, — worse luck! But I must 
begin at the beginning. Just after I wrote 
you before, there came a terrific storm which 
made me appreciate indoor coziness, but as 
45 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

only Baby and I were at home I expected to 
be very lonely. The snow was just whirling 
when I saw some one pass the window. I 
opened the door and in came the dumpiest 
little woman and two daughters. She asked 
me if I was "Mis' Rupit." I told her that 
she had almost guessed it, and then she in- 
troduced herself. She said she was "Mis' 
Lane," that she had heard there was a new 
stranger in the country, so she had brought 
her twin girls, Sedalia and Regalia, to be 
neighborly. While they were taking off their 
many coats and wraps it came out that they 
were from Linwood, thirty miles away. I was 
powerful glad I had a pot roast and some 
baked beans. 

After we had put the horses in the barn 
we had dinner and I heard the story of the 
girls' odd names. The mother is one of those 
"comfy," fat little women who remain happy 
and bubbling with fun in spite of hard knocks. 
I had already fallen in love with Regalia, she 
is so jolly and unaffected, so fat and so plain. 
46 



SEDALIA AND REGALIA 

Sedalia has a veneer of most uncomfortable 
refinement. She was shocked because Gale 
ate all the roast she wanted, and if I had been 
very sensitive I would have been in tears, 
because I ate a helping more than Gale did. 
But about the names. It seemed that 
"Mis' Lane" married quite young, was an 
orphan, and had no one to tell her things she 
should have known. She lived in Missouri, 
but about a year after her marriage the 
young couple started overland for the West. 
It was in November, and one night when 
they had reached the plains a real blue bliz- 
zard struck them. "Mis' Lane" had been 
in pain all day and soon she knew what was 
the matter. They were alone and it was a 
day's travel back to the last house. The 
team had given out and the wind and sleet 
were seeing which could do the most mean- 
ness. At last the poor man got a fire started 
and a wagon sheet stretched in such a man- 
ner that it kept off the sleet. He fixed a bed 
under the poor shelter and did all he could to 
47 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

keep the fire from blowing away, and there, 
a few hours later, a little girl baby was born. 
They melted sleet in the frying-pan to get 
water to wash it. "Mis' Lane" kept feeling 
no better fast, and about the time they got 
the poor baby dressed a second little one 
came. 

That she told me herself is proof she did n't 
die, I guess, but it is right hard to believe 
she did n't. Luckily the fire lasted until the 
babies were dressed and the mother began to 
feel better, for there was no wood. Soon the 
wind stopped and the snow fell steadily. It 
was warmer, and the whole family snuggled 
up under the wagon sheet and slept. 

Mr. Lane is a powerful good husband. 
He waited two whole days for his wife to 
gain strength before he resumed the journey, 
and on the third morning he actually carried 
her to the wagon. Just think of it! Could 
more be asked of any man? 

Every turn of the wheels made poor "Mis' 
Lane" more homesick. Like Mrs. Wiggs of 

4 8 



SEDALIA AND REGALIA 

the Cabbage Patch, she had a taste for geo- 
graphical names, and "Mis' Lane" is very 
loyal, so she wanted to call the little first- 
born "Missouri." Mr. Lane said she might, 
but that if she did he would call the other one 
"Arkansas." Sometimes homesickness would 
almost master her. She would hug up the 
little red baby and murmur " Missouri," and 
then daddy would growl playfully to "Arkan- 
sas." It went on that way for a long time 
and at last she remembered that Sedalia was 
in Missouri, so she felt glad and really named 
the older baby "Sedalia." But she could 
think of nothing to match the name and was 
in constant fear the father would name the 
other baby "Little Rock." 

For three years poor Gale was just 
"t'other one." Then the Lanes went to 
Green River where some lodge was having a 
parade. They were watching the drill when 
a "bystander that was standing by" said 
something about the "fine regalia." In- 
stantly "Mis' Lane" thought of her un- 
49 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

named child ; so since that time Gale has had 
a name. 

There could be no two people more unlike 
than the sisters. Sedalia is really handsome, 
and she is thin. But she is vain, selfish, shal- 
low, and conceited. Gale is not even pretty, 
but she is clean and she is honest. She does 
many little things that are not exactly polite, 
but she is good and true. They both went 
to the barn with me to milk. Gale tucked up 
her skirts and helped me. She said, "I just 
love a stable, with its hay and comfortable, 
contented cattle. I never go into one without 
thinking of the little baby Christ. I almost 
expect to see a little red baby in the straw 
every time I peek into a manger." 

Sedalia answered, "Well, for Heaven's 
sake, get out of the stable to preach. Who 
wants to stand among these smelly cows all 
day?" 

They stayed with us almost a week, and 
one day when Gale and I were milking she 
asked me to invite her to stay with me a 
50 



SEDALIA AND REGALIA 

month. She said to ask her mother, and left 
her mother and myself much together. But 
Sedalia stuck to her mother like a plaster and 
I just could not stand Sedalia a whole month. 
However, I was spared all embarrassment, 
for "Mis' Lane" asked me if I could not 
find work enough to keep Gale busy for a 
month or two. She went on to explain that 
Sedalia was expecting to be married and that 
Gale was so "common" she would really 
spoil the match. I was surprised and indig- 
nant, especially as Sedalia sat and listened 
so brazenly, so I said I thought Sedalia would 
need all the help she could get to get married 
and that I should be glad to have Gale visit 
me as long as she liked. 

So Gale stayed on with me. One afternoon 
she had gone to the post-office when I saw 
Mr. Patterson ride up. He went into the 
bunk-house to wait until the men should 
come. Now, from something Gale had said I 
fancied that Bob Patterson must be the right 
man. I am afraid I am not very delicate 
51 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

about that kind of meddling, and while I had 
been given to understand that Patterson was 
the man Sedalia expected to marry, I did n't 
think any man would choose her if he could 
get Gale, so I called him. We had a long 
chat and he told me frankly he wanted Gale, 
but that she did n't care for him, and that 
they kept throwing "that danged Sedalia" 
at him. Then he begged my pardon for say- 
ing "danged," but I told him I approved of 
the word when applied to Sedalia, and broke 
the news to him that Gale was staying with 
me. He fairly beamed. So that night I left 
Gale to wash dishes and Bob to help her 
while I held Mr. Stewart a prisoner in the 
stable and questioned him regarding Patter- 
son's prospects and habits. I found both all 
that need be, and told Mr. Stewart about my 
talk with Patterson, and he said, "Wooman, 
some day ye '11 gang ploom daft." But he 
admitted he was glad it was the "bonny 
lassie, instead of the bony one." When we 
went to the house Mr. Stewart said, " Weel, 
52 



SEDALIA AND REGALIA 

when are you douchy bairns gangin* to the 
kirk?" 

They left it to me, so I set Thanksgiving 
Day, and as there is no "kirk to gang to," 
we are going to have a justice of the peace 
and they are to be married here. We are 
going to have the dandiest dinner that I can 
cook, and Mr. Stewart went to town next 
day for the wedding dress, the gayest plaid 
outside of Caledonia. But Gale has lots of 
sense and is going to wear it. I have it 
almost finished, and while it does n't look 
just like a Worth model, still it looks plumb 
good for me to have made. The boys are 
going up after Zebulon Pike, and Mr. Stewart 
is going after "Mis' Lane." Joy waves are 
radiating from this ranch and about Thanks- 
giving morning one will strike you. 

With lots of love and happy wishes, 
Your ex-Washlady, 

Elinore Rupert. 



VI 

a thanksgiving-day wedding 

Dear Mrs. Coney, — 

... I think every one enjoyed our 
Thanksgiving programme except poor Gale. 
She was grieved, I verily believe, because 
Mr. Patterson is not Mormon and could not 
take Sedalia and herself also. I suppose it 
seemed odd to her to be unable to give way 
to Sedalia as she had always done. 

I had cooked and cooked. Gale and Zebu- 
Ion Pike both helped all they could. The 
wedding was to be at twelve o'clock, so at 
ten I hustled Gale into my room to dress. I 
had to lock the door to keep her in, and I 
divided my time between the last touches to 
my dinner and the finishing touches to Gale's 
toilet and receiving the people. The Lane 
party had not come yet, and I was scared to 
death lest Sedalia had had a tantrum and 
54 



THANKSGIVING-DAY WEDDING 

that Mr. Stewart would not get back in time. 
At last I left the people to take care of them- 
selves, for I had too much on my mind to 
bother with them. Just after eleven Mr. 
Stewart, Mis ' Lane, Sedalia, and Pa Lane 
"arriv" and came at once into the kitchen 
to warm. In a little while poor, frightened 
Gale came creeping in, looking guilty. But 
she looked lovely, too, in spite of her plaid 
dress. She wore her hair in a coronet braid, 
which added dignity and height, as well as 
being simple and becoming. Her mother 
brought her a wreath for her hair, of lilies 
of the valley and tiny pink rosebuds. It 
might seem a little out of place to one who 
did n't see it, but the effect was really charm- 
ing. 

Sedalia did n't know that Mr. Stewart had 
given Gale her dress, so, just to be nasty, 
she said, as soon as she saw Gale, "Dear me, 
when are you going to dress, Gale? You will 
hardly have time to get out of that horse- 
blanket you are wearing and get into some- 
55 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

thing decent." You see, she thought it was 
one of my dresses fixed over for Gale. Pres- 
ently Sedalia asked me if I was invited to the 
"function." She had some kind of rash on 
her face and Zebulon Pike noticed the rash 
and heard the word " function," so he thought 
that was the name of some disease and asked 
Mr. Stewart if the "function" was "catch- 
ing." Mr. Stewart had heard Sedalia, but 
knew "Zebbie" had not heard all that was 
said and how he got the idea he had, so he 
answered, "Yes, if ye once get the fever." 
So Zebulon Pike privately warned every one 
against getting the "function" from Sedalia. 
There are plenty of people here who don't 
know exactly what a function is, myself 
among them. So people edged away from 
Sedalia, and some asked her if she had seen 
the doctor and what he thought of her case. 
Poor girl, I 'm afraid she did n't have a very 
enjoyable time. 

At last the "jestice" of the peace came, 
and I hope they live happy ever afterward. 
56 



THANKSGIVING-DAY WEDDING 

That night a dance was given to celebrate 
the event and we began to have dinner im- 
mediately after the wedding so as to get 
through in time to start, for dances are never 
given in the home here, but in "the hall." 
Every settlement has one and the invitations 
are merely written announcements posted 
everywhere. We have what Sedalia calls 
"homogenous" crowds. I would n't attempt 
to say what she means, but as everybody 
goes no doubt she is right. 

Our dinner was a success, but that is not 
to be wondered at. Every woman for miles 
around contributed. Of course we had to 
borrow dishes, but we could n't think of 
seating every one; so we set one table for 
twenty-four and had three other long tables, 
on one of which we placed all the meats, 
pickles, and sauces, on another the vege- 
tables, soup, and coffee, and on the third 
the pie, cakes, ice-cream, and other desserts. 
We had two big, long shelves, one above the 
other, on which were the dishes. The people 
57 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

helped themselves to dishes and neighbors 
took turns at serving from the tables, so 
people got what they wanted and hunted 
themselves a place to sit while they ate. Two 
of the cowboys from this ranch waited upon 
the table at which were the wedding party 
and some of their friends. Boys from other 
ranches helped serve and carried coffee, cake, 
and ice-cream. The tablecloths were toler- 
ably good linen and we had ironed them wet 
so they looked nice. We had white lace- 
paper on the shelves and we used drawn- 
work paper napkins. As I said, we borrowed 
dishes, or, that is, every woman who called 
herself our neighbor brought whatever she 
thought we would need. So after every one 
had eaten I suggested that they sort out their 
dishes and wash them, and in that way I was 
saved all that work. We had everything done 
and were off to the dance by five o'clock. 
We went in sleds and sleighs, the snow was 
so deep, but it was all so jolly. Zebbie, Mr. 
Stewart, Jerrine, and I went in the bobsled. 
58 



THANKSGIVING-DAY WEDDING 

We jogged along at a comfortable pace lest 
the "beasties" should suffer, and every now 
and then a merry party would fly past us 
scattering snow in our faces and yelling like 
Comanches. We had a lovely moon then 
and the snow was so beautiful! We were 
driving northward, and to the south and 
back of us were the great somber, pine-clad 
Uintah Mountains, while ahead and on every 
side were the bare buttes, looking like old 
men of the mountains, — so old they had 
lost all their hair, beard, and teeth. 



VII 

ZEBULON PIKE VISITS HIS OLD HOME 

December 28, 1909. 

Dear Mrs. Coney, — Our Thanksgiving 
affair was the most enjoyable happening I 
can remember for a long time. Zebulon Pike 
came, but I had as a bait for him two fat 
letters from home. As soon as I came back 
from his place I wrote to Mrs. Carter and 
trusted to luck for my letter to reach her. I 
told her all I could about her brother and 
how seldom he left his mountain home. I 
asked her to write him all she could in one 
letter, as the trips between our place and his 
were so few and far between. So when she 
received my letter she wrote all she could 
think of, and then sent her letter and mine 
to Mothie and Phoebe, who are widows living 
in the old home. They each took turns writ- 
ing, so their letters are a complete record of 
60 



PIKE VISITS HIS OLD HOME 

the years "Zebbie" has been gone. The let- 
ters were addressed to me along with a cor- 
dial letter from Mrs. Carter asking me to see 
that he got them and to use my judgment in 
the delivering. I could n't go myself, but 
I wanted to read the letters to him and to 
write the answers; so I selected one piece of 
news I felt would bring him to hear the rest 
without his knowing how much there was for 
him. 

Well, the boys brought him, and a more 
delighted little man I am sure never lived. 
I read the letters over and over, and answers 
were hurried off. He was dreadfully home- 
sick, but could n't figure on how he could 
leave the " critters," or how he could trust 
himself on a train. Mr. Stewart became in- 
terested, and he is a very resourceful man, 
so an old Frenchman was found who had no 
home and wanted a place to stay so he could 
trap. He was installed at Zebulon Pike's 
with full instructions as to each "critter's" 
peculiarities and needs. Then one of the 
61 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

boys, who was going home for Christmas 
to Memphis, was induced to wait for Mr. 
Parker and to see him safe to Little Rock. 
His money was banked for him, and Mr. 
Stewart saw that he was properly clothed 
and made comfortable for the trip. Then he 
sent a telegram to Judge Carter, who met 
Zebulon Pike at Little Rock, and they had a 
family reunion in Yell County. I have had 
some charming letters from there, but that 
only proves what I have always said, that 
I am the luckiest woman' in finding really 
lovely people and having really happy expe- 
riences. Good things are constantly happen- 
ing to me. I wish I could tell you about my 
happy Christmas, but one of my New Year's 
resolutions was to stop loading you down 
with two-thousand-word letters. 

From something you wrote I think I must 
have written boastingly to you at some time. 
I have certainly not intended to, and you 
must please forgive me and remember how 
ignorant I am and how hard it is for me to 
62 



PIKE VISITS HIS OLD HOME 

express myself properly. I felt after I had 
written to Mr. Parker's people that I had 
taken a liberty, but luckily it was not thought 
of in that way by them. If you only knew 
how far short I fall of my own hopes you 
would know I could never boast. Why, it 
keeps me busy making over mistakes just 
like some one using old clothes. I get myself 
all ready to enjoy a success and find that I 
have to fit a failure. But one consolation is 
that I generally have plenty of material to 
cut generously, and many of my failures have 
proved to be real blessings. 

I do hope this New Year may bring to you 
the desire of your heart and all that those 
who love you best most wish for you. 

With lots and lots of love from baby and 
myself. 

Your ex-washlady, 

Elinore Stewart. 



VIII 

a happy christmas 

Dear Mrs. Coney, — 

My happy Christmas resulted from the 
ex-sheriff of this county being snowbound 
here. It seems that persons who come from a 
lower altitude to this country frequently be- 
come bewildered, especially if in poor health, 
leave the train at any stop and wander off 
into the hills, sometimes dying before they 
are found. The ex-sheriff cited a case, that 
of a young German who was returning from 
the Philippines, where he had been discharged 
after the war. He was the only child of his 
widowed mother, who has a ranch a few miles 
from here. No one knew he was coming 
home. One day the cook belonging to the 
camp of a construction gang went hunting 
and came back running, wild with horror. 
He had found the body of a man. The coro- 
64 



A HAPPY CHRISTMAS 

ner and the sheriff were notified, and next 
morning went out for the body, but the 
wolves had almost destroyed it. High up in 
a willow, under which the poor man had lain 
down to die, they saw a small bundle tied in 
a red bandanna and fast to a branch. They 
found a letter addressed to whoever should 
find it, saying that the body was that of 
Benny Louderer and giving them directions 
how to spare his poor old mother the awful 
knowledge of how he died. Also there was a 
letter to his mother asking her not to grieve 
for him and to keep their days faithfully. 
"Their days," I afterward learned, were an- 
niversaries which they had always kept, to 
which was added "Benny's day." 

Poor boy! When he realized that death 
was near his every thought was for the 
mother. Well, they followed his wishes, and 
the casket containing the bare, gnawed bones 
was sealed and never opened. And to this 
day poor Mrs. Louderer thinks her boy died 
of some fever while yet aboard the transport. 
65 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

The manner of his death has been kept so se- 
cret that I am the only one who has heard it. 

I was so sorry for the poor mother that I 
resolved to visit her the first opportunity I 
had. I am at liberty to go where I please 
when there is no one to cook for. So, when 
the men left, a few days later, I took Jerrine 
and rode over to the Louderer ranch. I had 
never seen Mrs. Louderer and it happened 
to be "Benny's day" that I blundered in 
upon. I found her to be a dear old German 
woman living all alone, the people who do 
the work on the ranch living in another house 
two miles away. She had been weeping for 
hours when I got there, but in accordance 
with her custom on the many anniversaries, 
she had a real feast prepared, although no 
one had been bidden. 

She says that God always sends her guests, 
but that was the first time she had had a 
little girl. She had a little daughter once 
herself, little Gretchen, but all that was left 
was a sweet memory and a pitifully small 
66 



A HAPPY CHRISTMAS 

mound on the ranch, quite near the house, 
where Benny and Gretchen are at rest beside 
"der fader, Herr Louderer." 

She is such a dear old lady! She made us 
so welcome and she is so entertaining. All 
the remainder of the day we listened to sto- 
ries of her children, looked at her pictures, 
and Jerrine had a lovely time with a wonder- 
ful wooden doll that they had brought with 
them from Germany. Mrs. Louderer forgot 
to weep in recalling her childhood days and 
showing us her treasures. And then our 
feast, — for it was verily a feast. We had 
goose and it was so delicious. I could n't tell 
you half the good things any more than I 
could have eaten some of all of them. 

We sat talking until far into the night, 
and she asked me how I was going to spend 
Christmas. I told her, " Probably in being 
homesick." She said that would never do 
and suggested that we spend it together. 
She said it was one of their special days and 
that the only happiness left her was in mak- 
67 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

ing some one else happy ; so she had thought 
of cooking some nice things and going to as 
many sheep camps as she could, taking with 
her the good things to the poor exiles, the 
sheep-herders. I liked the plan and was glad 
to agree, but I never dreamed I should have 
so lovely a time. When the queer old wooden 
clock announced two we went to bed. 

I left quite early the next morning with 
my head full of Christmas plans. You may 
not know, but cattle-men and sheep-men 
cordially hate each other. Mr. Stewart is 
a cattle-man, and so I did n't mention my 
Christmas plans to him. I saved all the 
butter I could spare for the sheep-herders; 
they never have any. That and some jars of 
gooseberry jelly was all I could give them. 
I cooked plenty for the people here, and two 
days before Christmas I had a chance to go 
down to Mrs. Louderer's in a buggy, so we 
went. We found her up to her ears in cook- 
ing, and such sights and smells I could never 
describe. She was so glad I came early, for 
68 



A HAPPY CHRISTMAS 

she needed help. I never worked so hard in 
my life or had a pleasanter time. 

Mrs. Louderer had sent a man out several 
days before to find out how many camps 
there were and where they were located. 
There were twelve camps and that means 
twenty-four men. We roasted six geese, 
boiled three small hams and three hens. We 
had besides several meat-loaves and links of 
sausage. We had twelve large loaves of the 
best rye bread; a small tub of doughnuts; 
twelve coffee-cakes, more to be called fruit- 
cakes, and also a quantity of little cakes with 
seeds, nuts, and fruit in them, — so pretty to 
look at and so good to taste. These had a 
thick coat of icing, some brown, some pink, 
some white. I had thirteen pounds of butter 
and six pint jars of jelly, so we melted the 
jelly and poured it into twelve glasses. 

The plan was, to start real early Christmas 

Eve morning, make our circuit of camps, and 

wind up the day at Frau O'Shaughnessy's to 

spend the night. Yes, Mrs. O'Shaughnessy 

69 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

is Irish, — as Irish as the pigs in Dublin. 
Before it was day the man came to feed and 
to get our horses ready. We were up betimes 
and had breakfast. The last speck was wiped 
from the shining stove, the kitchen floor was 
scrubbed, and the last small thing put in 
order. The man had four horses harnessed 
and hitched to the sled, on which was placed 
a wagon-box filled with straw, hot rocks, 
and blankets. Our twelve apostles — that 
is what we called our twelve boxes — were 
lifted in and tied firmly into place. Then 
we clambered in and away we went. Mrs. 
Louderer drove, and Tarn O'Shanter and 
Paul Revere were snails compared to us. 
We did n't follow any road either, but went 
sweeping along across country. No one else 
in the world could have done it unless they 
were drunk. We went careening along hill- 
sides without even slacking the trot. Occa- 
sionally we struck a particularly stubborn 
bunch of sagebrush and even the sled-runners 
would jump up into the air. We did n't stop 
70 



A HAPPY CHRISTMAS 

to light, but hit the earth several feet in ad- 
vance of where we left it. Luck was with 
us, though. I hardly expected to get through 
with my head unbroken, but not even a 
glass was cracked. 

It would have done your heart good to see 
the sheep-men. They were all delighted, and 
when you consider that they live solely on 
canned corn and tomatoes, beans, salt pork, 
and coffee, you can fancy what they thought 
of their treat. They have mutton when it is 
fit to eat, but that is certainly not in winter. 
One man at each camp does the cooking and 
the other herds. It does n't make any differ- 
ence if the cook never cooked before, and 
most of them never did. At one camp, where 
we stopped for dinner, they had a most in- 
teresting collection of fossils. After deliver- 
ing our last "apostle," we turned our faces 
toward Frau O'Shaughnessy's, and got there 
just in time for supper. 

Mrs. O'Shaughnessy is a widow, too, and 
has quite an interesting story. She is a 
7i 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

dumpy little woman whose small nose seems 
to be smelling the stars, it is so tip-tilted. 
She has the merriest blue eyes and the quick- 
est wit. It is really worth a severe bumping 
just to be welcomed by her. It was so warm 
and cozy in her low little cabin. She had her 
table set for supper, but she laid plates for 
us and put before us a beautifully roasted 
chicken. Thrifty Mrs. Louderer thought it 
should have been saved until next day, so 
she said to Frau O'Shaughnessy, "We hate 
to eat your hen, best you save her till to- 
morrow." But Mrs. O'Shaughnessy an- 
swered, "Oh, 'tis no mather, 'tis an ould 
hin she was annyway." So we enjoyed the 
"ould hin," which was brown, juicy, and 
tender. 

When we had finished supper and were 
drinking our "tay," Mrs. O'Shaughnessy 
told our fortunes with the tea-leaves. She told 
mine first and said I would die an old maid. 
I said it was rather late for that, but she 
cheerfully replied, "Oh, well, better late than 
72 



A HAPPY CHRISTMAS 

niver." She predicted for Mrs. Louderer that 
she should shortly catch a beau. "'T is the 
next man you see that will come coortin' 
you." Before we left the table some one 
knocked and a young man, a sheep-herder, 
entered. He belonged to a camp a few miles 
away and is out from Boston in search of 
health. He had been into town and his horse 
was lamed so he could not make it into camp, 
and he wanted to stay overnight. He was 
a stranger to us all, but Mrs. O'Shaughnessy 
made him at home and fixed such a tempting 
supper for him that I am sure he was glad of 
the chance to stay. He was very decidedly 
English, and powerfully proud of it. He 
asked Mrs. O'Shaughnessy if she was Irish 
and she said, "No, ye haythen, it's Chinese 
Oi am. Can't yez tell it be me Cockney 
accint?" Mr. Boutwell looked very much 
surprised. I don't know which was the fun- 
nier, the way he looked or what she said. 

We had a late breakfast Christmas morn- 
ing, but before we were through Mr. Stewart 
73 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

came. We had planned to spend the day 
with Mrs. O'Shaughnessy, but he did n't ap- 
prove of our going into the sheep district, 
so when he found where we had gone he came 
after us. Mrs. Louderer and he are old ac- 
quaintances and he bosses her around like 
he tries to boss me. Before we left, Mrs. 
O'Shaughnessy's married daughter came, so 
we knew she would not be lonely. 

It was almost one o'clock when we got 
home, but all hands helped and I had plenty 
cooked anyway, so we soon had a good din- 
ner on the table. Mr. Stewart had prepared 
a Christmas box for Jerrine and me. He 
does n't approve of white waists in the 
winter. I had worn one at the wedding and 
he felt personally aggrieved. For me in the 
box were two dresses, that is, the material 
to make them. One is a brown and red 
checked, and the other green with a white 
fleck in, both outing flannel. For Jerrine 
there was a pair of shoes and stockings, both 
stockings full of candy and nuts. He is very 
74 



A HAPPY CHRISTMAS 

bluff in manner, but he is really the kindest 
person. 

Mrs. Louderer stayed until New Year's 
day. My Christmas was really a very happy 
one. 

Your friend, 

Elinore Rupert. 

. . . An interesting day on this ranch is 
the day the cattle are named. If Mr. Stewart 
had children he would as soon think of leav- 
ing them unnamed as to let a "beastie" go 
without a name. 

On the day they vaccinated he came into 
the kitchen and told me he would need me 
to help him name the " critters/ ' So he and 
I "assembled " in a safe place and took turns 
naming the calves. As fast as a calf was 
vaccinated it was run out of the chute and 
he or I called out a name for it and it was 
booked that way. 

The first two he named were the "Duke 
of Monmouth" and the "Duke of Mont- 
75 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

rose." I called my first "Oliver Cromwell" 
and "John Fox." The poor "mon" had to 
have revenge, so the next ugly, scrawny little 
beast he called the "Poop of Roome." And 
it was a heifer calf, too. 

This morning I had the startling news that 
the "Poop" had eaten too much alfalfa and 
was all "swellit oop," and, moreover, he had 
"stealit it." I don't know which is the more 
astonishing, that the Pope has stolen alfalfa, 
or that he has eaten it. 

We have a swell lot of names, but I am 
not sure I could tell you which is "Bloody 
Mary," or which is "Elizabeth," or, indeed, 
which is which of any of them. 

E. R. 



IX 

A CONFESSION 

April 5, 1910. 

Dear Mrs. Coney, — 

I find upon re-reading your letter that I 
did not answer it at all when I wrote you. 
You must think me very indifferent, but I 
really don't mean to be. 

My house joins on to Mr. Stewart's house. 
It was built that way so that I could "hold 
down" my land and job at the same time. 
I see the wisdom of it now, though at first I 
did not want it that way. My boundary 
lines run within two feet of Mr. Stewart's 
house, so it was quite easy to build on. 

I think the Pattersons' ranch is about 
twenty-five miles from us. I am glad to tell 
you they are doing splendidly. Gale is just 
as thrifty as she can be and Bobby is steady 
and making money fast. Their baby is the 
77 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

dearest little thing. I have heard that 
Sedalia is to marry a Mormon bishop, but I 
doubt it. She puts on very disgusting airs 
about "our Bobby," and she patronizes Gale 
most shamefully; but Gale, bless her uncon- 
scious heart, is so happy in her husband and 
son that she does n't know Sedalia is insult- 
ing. 

My dear old grandmother whom I loved 
so much has gone home to God. I used to 
write long letters to her. I should like a few 
addresses of old persons who are lonely as 
she was, who would like letters such as I 
write. You know I can't be brief. I have 
tried and cannot. If you know of any persons 
who would not tire of my long accounts and 
would care to have them, you will be doing 
me a favor to let me know. 

I have not treated you quite frankly about 
something you had a right to know about. 
I am ashamed and I regret very much that I 
have not told you. I so dread the possibility 
of losing your friendship that I will never tell 

78 



A CONFESSION 

you unless you promise me beforehand to 
forgive me. I know that is unfair, but it is 
the only way I can see out of a difficulty that 
my foolish reticence has led me into. Few 
people, perhaps, consider me reticent, but in 
some cases I am afraid I am even deceitful. 
Won't you make it easy to u 'fess" so I may 
be happy again? 

Truly your friend, 

Elinore Rupert. 

June 1 6, 1 9 io. 

My dear Friend, — 

Your card just to hand. I wrote you some 
time ago telling you I had a confession to 
make and have had no letter since, so thought 
perhaps you were scared I had done some- 
thing too bad to forgive. I am suffering just 
now from eye-strain and can't see to write 
long at a time, but I reckon I had better 
confess and get it done with. 

The thing I have done is to marry Mr. 
Stewart. It was such an inconsistent thing 
79 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

to do that I was ashamed to tell you. And, 
too, I was afraid you would think I did n't 
need your friendship and might desert me. 
Another of my friends thinks that way. 

I hope my eyes will be better soon and 
then I will write you a long letter. 

Your old friend with a new name, 

Elinore Stewart. 



X 

THE STORY OF CORA BELLE 

August 15, 19 10. 

Dear Mrs. Coney, — 

. . . Grandma Edmonson's birthday is 
the 30th of May, and Mrs. O'Shaughnessy 
suggested that we give her a party. I had 
never seen Grandma, but because of some- 
thing that happened in her family years ago 
which a few narrow-heads whom it did n't 
concern in the least cannot forgive or forget, 
I had heard much of her. The family con- 
sists of Grandma, Grandpa, and little Cora 
Belle, who is the sweetest little bud that ever 
bloomed upon the twigs of folly. 

The Edmonsons had only one child, a 
daughter, who was to have married a man 
whom her parents objected to solely because 
he was a sheep-man, while their sympathies 
were with the cattle-men, although they 
81 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

owned only a small bunch. To gain their 
consent the young man closed out his interest 
in sheep, at a loss, filed on a splendid piece of 
land near them, and built a little home for the 
girl he loved. Before they could get to town 
to be married Grandpa was stricken with 
rheumatism. Grandma was already almost 
past going on with it, so they postponed the 
marriage, and as that winter was particu- 
larly severe, the young man took charge of 
the Edmonson stock and kept them from 
starving. As soon as he was able he went for 
the license. 

Mrs. O'Shaughnessy and a neighbor were 
hunting some cattle that had wandered away 
and found the poor fellow shot in the back. 
He was not yet dead and told them it was 
urgently necessary for them to hurry him 
to the Edmonsons' and to get some one to 
perform the marriage ceremony as quickly 
as possible, for he could not live long. They 
told him such haste meant quicker death 
because he would bleed more; but he in- 



THE STORY OF CORA BELLE 

sisted, so they got a wagon and hurried all 
they could. But they could not outrun 
death. When he knew he could not live to 
reach home, he asked them to witness all he 
said. Everything he possessed he left to the 
girl he was to have married, and said he was 
the father of the little child that was to come. 
He begged them to befriend the poor girl he 
had to leave in such a condition, and to take 
the marriage license as evidence that he had 
tried to do right. The wagon was stopped 
so the jolting would not make death any 
harder, and there in the shadow of the great 
twin buttes he died. 

They took the body to the little home he 
had made, and Mrs. O'Shaughnessy went to 
the Edmonsons' to do what she could there. 
Poor Cora Jane did n't know how terrible a 
thing wounded pride is. She told her parents 
her misdeeds. They could n't see that they 
were in any way to blame. They seemed 
to care nothing for her terrible sorrow nor 
for her weakened condition. All they could 

83 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

think of was that the child they had almost 
worshiped had disgraced them; so they told 
her to go. 

Mrs. O'Shaughnessy took her to the home 
that had been prepared for her, where the 
poor body lay. Some way they got through 
those dark days, and then began the waiting 
for the little one to come. Poor Cora Jane 
said she would die then, and that she wanted 
to die, but she wanted the baby to know 
it was loved, — she wanted to leave some- 
thing that should speak of that love when the 
child should come to understanding. So Mrs. 
O'Shaughnessy said they would make all its 
little clothes with every care, and they 
should tell of the love. Mrs. O'Shaughnessy 
is the daintiest needleworker I have ever 
seen; she was taught by the nuns at St. 
Catherine's in the "ould country." She was 
all patience with poor, unskilled Cora Jane, 
and the little outfit that was finally finished 
was dainty enough for a fairy. Little Cora 
Belle is so proud of it. 

8 4 



THE STORY OF CORA BELLE 

At last the time came and Mrs. O'Shaugh- 
nessy went after the parents. Long before, 
they had repented and were only too glad to 
go. The poor mother lived one day and night 
after the baby came. She laid the tiny thing 
in her mother's arms and told them to call 
her Cora Belle. She told them she gave them 
a pure little daughter in place of the sinful 
one they had lost. 

That was almost twelve years ago, and 
the Edmonsons have lived in the new house 
all this time. The deed to the place was made 
out to Cora Belle, and her grandfather is her 
guardian. . . . 

If you traveled due north from my home, 
after about nine hours' ride you would come 
into an open space in the butte lands, and 
away between two buttes you would see the 
glimmer of blue water. As you drew nearer 
you would be able to see the fringe of willows 
around the lake, and presently a low, red- 
roofed house with corrals and stables. You 
would see long lines of "buck" fence, a flock 
85 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

of sheep near by, and cattle scattered about 
feeding. This is Cora Belle's home. On the 
long, low porch you would see two old folks 
rocking. The man is small, and has rheuma- 
tism in his legs and feet so badly that he can 
barely hobble. The old lady is large and fat, 
and is also afflicted with rheumatism, but 
has it in her arms and shoulders. They are 
both cheerful and hopeful, and you would 
get a cordial welcome. . . . 

When you saw Cora Belle you would see 
a stout, square-built little figure with long 
flaxen braids, a pair of beautiful brown eyes 
and the longest and whitest lashes you ever 
saw, a straight nose, a short upper lip, a 
broad, full forehead, — the whole face, 
neither pretty nor ugly, plentifully sown 
with the brownest freckles. She is very truly 
the head of the family, doing all the house- 
work and looking after the stock, winter and 
summer, entirely by herself. Three years ago 
she took things into her own hands, and since 
that time has managed altogether. Mrs. 
86 



THE STORY OF CORA BELLE 

O'Shaughnessy, however, tells her what to 
do. 

The sheep, forty in number, are the result 
of her individual efforts. Mrs. O'Shaughnessy 
told her there was more money in raising 
lambs than in raising chickens, so she quit 
the chickens as a business and went to some 
of the big sheep-men and got permission to 
take the "dogie" lambs, which they are glad 
to give away. She had plenty of cows, so 
she milked cows and fed lambs all day long 
all last year. This year she has forty head of 
nice sheep worth four dollars each, and she 
does n't have to feed them the year round 
as she would chickens, and the wolves are 
no worse to kill sheep than they are to kill 
chickens. When shearing-time came she 
went to a sheep-man and told him she would 
help cook for his men one week if he would 
have her sheep sheared with his. She said 
her work was worth three dollars, that is 
what one man would get a day shearing, and 
he could easily shear her sheep in one day. 
87 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

That is how she got her sheep sheared. The 
man had her wool hauled to town with his, 
sold it for her, and it brought sixty dollars. 
She took her money to Mrs. O'Shaughnessy. 
She wanted some supplies ordered before 
she went home, because, as she gravely said, 
"the rheumatiz would get all the money she 
had left when she got home," — meaning 
that her grandparents would spend what 
remained for medicine. 

The poor old grandparents read all the 
time of wonderful cures that different dopes 
accomplish, and they spend every nickel they 
can get their hands on for nostrums. They 
try everything they read of, and have to buy 
it by the case, — horrid patent stuff! They 
have rolls of testimonials and believe every 
word, so they keep on trying and hoping. 
When there is any money they each order 
whatever medicine they want to try. If 
Mrs. Edmonson's does n't seem to help her, 
Grandpa takes it and she takes his, — that is 
their idea of economy. They would spend 
88 



THE STORY OF CORA BELLE 

hours telling you about their different reme- 
dies and would offer you spoonful after 
spoonful of vile-looking liquid, and be mildly 
grieved when you refused to take it. Grand- 
ma's hands are so bent and twisted that she 
can't sew, so dear old Grandpa tries to do it. 
Mrs. O'Shaughnessy told me that she 
helped out when she could. Three years ago 
she made them all a complete outfit, but the 
"rheumatiz" has been getting all the spare 
money since then, so there has been nothing 
to sew. A peddler sold them a piece of ging- 
ham which they made up for Cora Belle. It 
was broad pink and white stripes, and they 
wanted some style to "Cory's" clothes, so 
they cut a gored skirt. But they had no pat- 
tern and made the gores by folding a width 
of the goods biasly and cutting it that way. It 
was put together with no regard to match- 
ing the stripes, and a bias seam came in the 
center behind, but they put no stay in the 
seam and the result was the most outrageous 
affair imaginable. 

89 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

Well, we had a large room almost empty 
and Mr. Stewart liked the idea of a party, 
so Mrs. Louderer, Mrs. O'Shaughnessy, and 
myself planned for the event. It was to be 
a sewing- bee, a few good neighbors invited, 
and all to sew for Grandma. . . . So Mrs. 
O'Shaughnessy went to Grandma's and got 
all the material she had to make up. I had 
saved some sugar-bags and some flour-bags. 
I knew Cora Belle needed underwear, so I 
made her some little petticoats of the larger 
bags and some drawers of the smaller. I had 
a small piece of white lawn that I had no use 
for, and of that I made a dear little sunbon- 
net with a narrow edging of lace around, and 
also made a gingham bonnet for her. Two 
days before the time, came Mrs. Louderer, 
laden with bundles, and Mrs. O'Shaughnessy, 
also laden. We had all been thinking of Cora 
Belle. Mr. Stewart had sent by mail for her 
a pair of sandals for everyday wear and a 
nice pair of shoes, also some stockings. Mrs. 
Louderer brought cloth for three dresses of 
90 



THE STORY OF CORA BELLE 

heavy Dutch calico, and gingham for three 
aprons. She made them herself and she sews 
so carefully. She had bought patterns and 
the little dresses were stylishly made, as well 
as well made. Mrs. O'Shaughnessy brought 
a piece of crossbar with a tiny forget-me- 
not polka dot, and also had goods and 
embroidery for a suit of underwear. My 
own poor efforts were already completed 
when the rest came, so I was free to help 
them. 

Late in the afternoon of the 29th a funny 
something showed up. Fancy a squeaky, 
rickety old wagon without a vestige of paint. 
The tires had come off and had been "set" 
at home; that is done by heating the tires 
red-hot and having the rims of the wheels 
covered with several layers of burlap, or 
other old rags, well wet; then the red-hot 
tire is put on and water hurriedly poured on 
to shrink the iron and to keep the burlap 
from blazing. Well, whoever had set Cora 
Belle's tires had forgotten to cut away the 
91 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

surplus burlap, so all the ragtags were merrily 
waving in the breeze. 

Cora Belle's team would bring a smile to 
the soberest face alive. Sheba is a tall, lanky 
old mare. Once she was bay in color, but the 
years have added gray hair until now she is 
roan. Being so long-legged she strides along 
at an amazing pace which her mate, Balaam, 
a little donkey, finds it hard to keep up with. 
Balaam, like Sheba, is full of years. Once 
his glossy brown coat was the pride of some 
Mexican's heart, but time has added to his 
color also, and now he is blue. His eyes are 
sunken and dim, his ears no longer stand up 
in true donkey style, but droop dejectedly. 
He has to trot his best to keep up with 
Sheba's slowest stride. About every three 
miles he balks, but little Cora Belle does n't 
call it balking, she says Balaam has stopped 
to rest, and they sit and wait till he is ready to 
trot along again. That is the kind of layout 
which drew up before our door that evening. 
Cora Belle was driving and she wore her 
92 



THE STORY OF CORA BELLE 

wonderful pink dress which hung down in a 
peak behind, fully six inches longer than any- 
where else. The poor child had no shoes. The 
winter had tried the last pair to their utmost 
endurance and the "rheumatiz" had long 
since got the last dollar, so she came with her 
chubby little sunburned legs bare. Her poor 
little scarred feet were clean, her toe-nails 
full of nicks almost into the quick, broken 
against rocks when she had been herding her 
sheep. In the back of the wagon, flat on the 
bottom, sat Grandma and Grandpa, such 
bundles of coats and blankets I can't de- 
scribe. After a great deal of trouble we got 
them unloaded and into the house. Then 
Mrs. Louderer entertained them while Mrs. 
O'Shaughnessy and I prepared supper and 
got a bath ready for Cora Belle. We had 
a T-bone steak, mashed potatoes, hominy, 
hot biscuits and butter, and stewed prunes. 
Their long ride had made them hungry and 
I know they enjoyed their meal. 
After supper Cora Belle and I washed the 
93 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

dishes while Mrs. O'Shaughnessy laid out 
the little clothes. Cora Belle's clothes were 
to be a surprise. The postmistress here also 
keeps a small store and has ribbon, and when 
she heard of our plans from Mr. Stewart she 
sent up a couple of pairs of hair-ribbon for 
Cora Belle. Soon Mrs. O'Shaughnessy called 
us, and Cora Belle and I went into the bed- 
room where she was. I wish you could have 
seen that child! Poor little neglected thing, 
she began to cry. She said, "They ain't for 
me, I know they ain't. Why, it ain't my 
birthday, it's Granny's." Nevertheless, she 
had her arms full of them and was clutch- 
ing them so tightly with her work-worn little 
hands that we could n't get them. She 
sobbed so deeply that Grandma heard her 
and became alarmed. She hobbled to the 
door and pounded with her poor twisted 
hands, calling all the while, "Cory, Cory 
Belle, what ails you?" She got so excited 
that I opened the door, but Cora Belle told 
her to go away. She said, "They ain't 
94 



THE STORY OF CORA BELLE 

for you, Granny, and they ain't for me 
either." . . . 

People here observe Decoration Day 
faithfully, and Cora Belle had brought half 
a wagon-load of iris, which grows wild here. 
Next morning we were all up early, but Cora 
Belle's flowers had wilted and she had to 
gather more, but we all hurried and helped. 
She said as she was going to see her mother 
she wanted to wear her prettiest dress, so 
Gale and Mrs. O'Shaughnessy helped her to 
get ready. The cemetery is only about two 
miles away, so we were all down quite early. 
We were obliged to hurry because others 
were coming to help sew. Cora Belle went 
at once to the graves where her parents lie 
side by side, and began talking to her mother 
just as though she saw her. "You didn't 
know me, did you, Mother, with my pretty 
new things ? But I am your little girl, 
Mamma. I am your little Cora Belle." After 
she had talked and had turned every way 
like a proud little bird, she went to work. 
95 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

And, oh, how fast she worked! Both graves 
were first completely covered with pine 
boughs. It looked like sod, so closely were 
the little twigs laid. Next she broke the 
stems off the iris and scattered the blossoms 
over, and the effect was very beautiful. Then 
we hurried home and everybody got busy. 
The men took Grandpa off to another part 
of the ranch where they were fanning oats to 
plant, and kept him all day. That was good 
for him because then he could be with the 
men all day and he so seldom has a chance to 
be with men. Several ladies came and they 
all made themselves at home and worked 
like beavers, and we all had a fine time. . . . 
Sedalia was present and almost caused a 
riot. She says she likes unusual words be- 
cause they lend distinction to conversation. 
Well, they do — sometimes. There was an- 
other lady present whose children are very 
gifted musically, but who have the bad name 
of taking what they want without asking. 
The mother can neither read nor write, and 
96 



THE STORY OF CORA BELLE 

she is very sensitive about the bad name her 
children have. While we were all busy some 
one made a remark about how smart these 
children were. Sedalia thought that a good 
time to get in a big word, so she said, "Yes, 
I have always said Lula was a progeny." 
Mrs. Hall did n't know what she meant and 
thought that she was casting reflections on 
her child's honesty, so with her face scarlet 
and her eyes blazing she said, " Sedalia Lane, 
I won't allow you nor nobody else to say my 
child is a progeny. You can take that back 
or I will slap you peaked." Sedalia took it 
back in a hurry, so I guess little Lula Hall 
is not a progeny. 

Every one left about four except Gale, 
Mrs. O'Shaughnessy, Mrs. Louderer, and the 
Edmonsons. They had farthest to go, so 
they stayed over night again. We worked 
until ten o'clock that night over Grandma's 
clothes, but everything was thoroughly fin- 
ished. Every button was on, every thread- 
end knotted and clipped, and some tired 
97 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

workers lay down to rest, as did a very happy 
child and a very thankful old lady. 

Every one got away by ten o'clock the 
next morning. The last I saw of little Cora 
Belle was when they had reached the top of 
a long slope and Balaam had "stopped to 
rest." The breeze from the south was play- 
fully fluttering the rags on the wheels. Pres- 
ently I heard a long " hee-haw, hee-haw," and 
I knew Balaam had rested and had started. 

I have been a very busy woman since I 
began this letter to you several days ago. 
A dear little child has joined the angels. I 
dressed him and helped to make his casket. 
There is no minister in this whole country 
and I could not bear the little broken lily- 
bud to be just carted away and buried, so I 
arranged the funeral and conducted the serv- 
ices. I know I am unworthy and in no way 
fitted for such a mission, but I did my poor 
best, and if no one else is comforted, I am. 
I know the message of God's love and care 
has been told once, anyway, to people who 
98 



THE STORY OF CORA BELLE 

have learned to believe more strongly in hell 
than in heaven. 

Dear friend, I do hope that this New Year 

will bring you and yours fuller joys than you 

have ever known. If I had all the good gifts 

in my hands you should certainly be blessed. 

Your sincere friend, 

Elinore Rupert Stewart. 



XI 

zebbie's story 

September i, 19 10. 

Dear Mrs. Coney, — 

It was just a few days after the birthday 
party and Mrs. O'Shaughnessy was with me 
again. We were down at the barn looking at 
some new pigs, when we heard the big corral 
gates swing shut, so we hastened out to see 
who it could be so late in the day. 

It was Zebbie. He had come on the stage 
to Burnt Fork and the driver had brought 
him on here. . . . There was so much to tell, 
and he whispered he had something to tell 
me privately, but that he was too tired then ; 
so after supper I hustled him off to bed. . . . 

Next morning . . . the men went off to 

their work and Zebbie and I were left to tell 

secrets. When he was sure we were alone he 

took from his trunk a long, flat box. Inside 

100 



ZEBBIE'S STORY 

was the most wonderful shirt I have ever 
seen; it looked like a cross between a night- 
shirt and a shirt-waist. It was of homespun 
linen. The bosom was ruffled and tucked, all 
done by hand, — such tiny stitches, such 
patience and skill. Then he handed me an 
old daguerreotype. I unfastened the little 
golden hook and inside was a face good to 
see and to remember. It was dim, yet clear 
in outline, just as if she were looking out 
from the mellow twilight of long ago. The 
sweet, elusive smile, — I could n't tell where 
it was, whether it was the mouth or the 
beautiful eyes that were smiling. All that 
was visible of her dress was the Dutch collar, 
just like what is being worn now. It was 
pinned with an ugly old brooch which Zebbie 
said was a " breast-pin" he had given her. 
Under the glass on the other side was a strand 
of faded hair and a slip of paper. The writing 
on the paper was so faded it was scarcely 
readable, but it said: "Pauline Gorley, age 
22, i860." 

101 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

Next he showed me a note written by 
Pauline, simply worded, but it held a world 
of meaning for Zebbie. It said, " I spun and 
wove this cloth at Adeline's, enough for me a 
dress and you a shirt, which I made. It is 
for the wedding, else to be buried in. Yours, 
Pauline." The shirt, the picture, and the note 
had waited for him all these years in Mothie's 
care. And now I will tell you the story. 

Long, long ago some one did something to 
some one else and started a feud. Unfortu- 
nately the Gorleys were on one side and the 
Parkers on the other. That it all happened 
before either Zebbie or Pauline was born 
made no difference. A Gorley must hate a 
Parker always, as also a Parker must hate 
a Gorley. Pauline was the only girl, and she 
had a regiment of big brothers who gloried 
in the warfare and wanted only the slightest 
pretext to shoot a Parker. So they grew up, 
and Zebbie often met Pauline at the quiltings 
and other gatherings at the homes of non- 
partisans. He remembers her so perfectly 
102 



ZEBBIE'S STORY 

and describes her so plainly that I can pic- 
ture her easily. She had brown eyes and hair. 
She used to ride about on her sorrel palfrey 
with her "nigger" boy Caesar on behind to 
open and shut plantation gates. She wore 
a pink calico sunbonnet, and Zebbie says 
"she was just like the pink hollyhocks that 
grew by mother's window." Is n't that a 
sweet picture? 

Her mother and father were both dead, 
and she and her brothers lived on their 
plantation. Zebbie had never dared speak 
to her until one day he had driven over with 
his mother and sisters to a dinner given on 
a neighboring plantation. He was standing 
outside near the wall, when some one dropped 
a spray of apple blossoms down upon him 
from an upper window. He looked up and 
Pauline was leaning out smiling at him. After 
that he made it a point to frequent places 
where he might expect her, and things went 
so well that presently Caesar was left at home 
lest he should tell the brothers. She was 
103 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

a loyal little soul and would not desert, 
although he urged her to, even promising 
to go away, "plumb away, clean to Scott 
County if she would go." She told him that 
her brothers would go even as far as that to 
kill him, so that they must wait and hope. 
Finally Zebbie got tired of waiting, and one 
day he boldly rode up to the Gorley home 
and formally asked for Pauline's hand. The 
bullet he got for his presumption kept him 
from going to the war with his father and 
brother when they marched away. 

Some time later George Gorley was shot 
and killed from ambush, and although Zeb- 
bie had not yet left his bed the Gorleys be- 
lieved he did it, and one night Pauline came 
through a heavy rainstorm, with only Caesar, 
to warn Zebbie and to beg him, for her 
sake, to get away as fast as he could that 
night. She pleaded that she could not live if 
he were killed and could never marry him if 
he killed her brothers, so she persuaded him 
to go while they were all innocent. 
104 



ZEBBIE'S STORY 

. Well, he did as she wished and they never 
saw each other again. He never went home 
again until last Thanksgiving, and dear little 
Pauline had been dead for years. She her- 
self had taken her little gifts for Zebbie to 
Mothie to keep for him. Some years later 
she died and was buried in the dress she 
mentioned. It was woven at Adeline Car- 
ter's, one of the bitterest enemies of the Gor- 
leys, but the sacrifice of her pride did her 
no good because she was long at rest before 
Zebbie knew. He had been greatly grieved 
because no stone marked her grave, only a 
tangle of rose-briers. So he bought a stone, 
and in the night before Decoration Day he 
and two of Uncle Buck's grandsons went to 
the Gorley burying-ground and raised it to 
the memory of sweet Pauline. Some of the 
Gorley s still live there, so he came home at 
once, fearing if they should find out who 
placed the stone above their sister they 
would take vengeance on his poor, frail body. 
After he had finished telling me his story, 
105 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

I felt just as I used to when Grandmother 
opened the "big chist" to air her wedding 
clothes and the dress each of her babies wore 
when baptized. It seemed almost like smell- 
ing the lavender and rose-leaves, and it was 
with reverent fingers that I folded the shirt, 
the work of love, yellow with age, and laid it 
in the box. . . . 

Well, Mrs. O'Shaughnessy returned, and 
early one morning we started with a wagon 
and a bulging mess-box for Zebbie's home. 
We were going a new and longer route in 
order to take the wagon. Dandelions spread 
a carpet of gold. Larkspur grew waist-high 
with its long spikes of blue. The service- 
bushes and the wild cherries were a mass of 
white beauty. Meadowlarks and robins and 
bluebirds twittered and sang from every 
branch, it almost seemed. A sky of tenderest 
blue bent over us and fleecy little clouds 
drifted lazily across. . . . Soon we came to 
the pineries, where we traveled up deep 
gorges and canons. The sun shot arrows of 
1 06 



ZEBBIE'S STORY 

gold through the pines down upon us and 
we gathered our arms full of columbines. 
The little black squirrels barked and chat- 
tered saucily as we passed along, and we 
were all children together. We forgot all 
about feuds and partings, death and hard 
times. All we remembered was that God is 
good and the world is wide and beautiful. 
We plodded along all day. Next morning 
there was a blue haze that Zebbie said 
meant there would be a high wind, so we 
hurried to reach his home that evening. 

The sun was hanging like a great red ball 
in the smoky haze when we entered the long 
canon in which is Zebbie' s cabin. Already it 
was dusky in the canons below, but not a 
breath of air stirred. A more delighted man 
than Zebbie I never saw when we finally 
drove up to his low, comfortable cabin. 
Smoke was slowly rising from the chimney, 
and Gavotte, the man in charge, rushed out 
and the hounds set up a joyful barking. 
Gavotte is a Frenchman, and he was all 
107 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

smiles and gesticulations as he said, " Wel- 
come, welcome! To-day I am rejoice you 
have come. Yesterday I am despair if you 
have come because I am scrub, but to-day, 
behold, I am delight." 

I have heard of clean people, but Gavotte 
is the cleanest man I ever saw. The cabin 
floor was so white I hated to step upon it. 
The windows shone, and at each there was 
a calico curtain, blue-and- white check, un- 
ironed but newly washed. In one window was 
an old brown pitcher, cracked and nicked, 
filled with thistles. I never thought them 
pretty before, but the pearly pink and the 
silvery green were so pretty and looked so 
clean that they had a new beauty. Above 
the fireplace was a great black eagle which 
Gavotte had killed, the wings outspread and 
a bunch of arrows in the claws. In one corner 
near the fire was a washstand, and behind 
it hung the fishing-tackle. Above one door 
was a gun-rack, on which lay the rifle and 
shotgun, and over the other door was a pair 
1 08 



ZEBRIE'S STORY 

of deer-antlers. In the center of the room 
stood the square home-made table, every 
inch scrubbed. In the side room, which is 
the bedroom , was a wide bunk made of pine 
plank that had also been scrubbed, then 
filled with fresh, sweet pine boughs, and over 
them was spread a piece of canvas that had 
once been a wagon sheet, but Gavotte had 
washed it and boiled and pounded it until it 
was clean and sweet. That served for a sheet. 

Zebbie was beside himself with joy. The 
hounds sprang upon him and expressed their 
joy unmistakably. He went at once to the 
corrals to see the ''critters," and every one of 
them was safely penned for the night. " Old 
Sime," an old ram (goodness knows how old !) , 
promptly butted him over, but he just 
beamed with pleasure. "Sime knows me, 
dinged if he don't!" was his happy exclama- 
tion. We went into the cabin and left him 
fondling the "critters." 

Gavotte did himself proud getting supper. 
We had trout and the most delicious biscuit. 
109 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

Each of us had a crisp, tender head of lettuce 
with a spoonful of potato salad in the center. 
We had preserves made from canned peaches, 
and the firmest yellow butter. Soon it was 
quite dark and we had a tiny brass lamp 
which gave but a feeble light, but it was quite 
cool so we had a blazing fire which made it 
light enough. 

When supper was over, Zebbie called us 
out and asked us if we could hear anything. 
We could hear the most peculiar, long-drawn, 
sighing wail that steadily grew louder and 
nearer. I was really frightened, but he said 
it was the forerunner of the windstorm that 
would soon strike us. He said it was wind 
coming down Crag Cafion, and in just a few 
minutes it struck us like a cold wave and 
rushed, sighing, on down the canon. We 
could hear it after it had passed us, and it 
was perfectly still around the cabin. Soon 
we heard the deep roaring of the coming 
storm, and Zebbie called the hounds in and 
secured the door. The sparks began to fly 
no 



ZEBBIE'S STORY 

up the chimney. Jerrine lay on a bearskin 
before the fire, and Mrs. O'Shaughnessy and 
I sat on the old blue "settle" at one side. 
Gavotte lay on the other side of the fire on 
the floor, his hands under his head. Zebbie 
got out his beloved old fiddle, tuned up, and 
began playing. Outside the storm was raging, 
growing worse all the time. Zebbie played 
and played. The worse the tumult, the 
harder the storm, the harder he played. I 
remember I was holding my breath, expect- 
ing the house to be blown away every mo- 
ment, and Zebbie was playing what he called 
"Bonaparte's Retreat." It all seemed to 
flash before me — I could see those poor, 
suffering soldiers staggering along in the 
snow, sacrifices to one man's unholy ambi- 
tion. I verily believe we were all bewitched. 
I should n't have been surprised to have 
seen witches and gnomes come tumbling 
down the chimney or flying in at the door, 
riding on the crest of the storm. I glanced at 
Mrs. O'Shaughnessy. She sat with her chin 
in 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

in her hand, gazing with unseeing eyes into 
the fire. Zebbie seemed possessed; he could 
n't tire. 

It seemed like hours had passed and the 
tumult had not diminished. I felt like shriek- 
ing, but I gathered Jerrine up into my arms 
and carried her in to bed. Mrs. O'Shaugh- 
nessy came with us. She touched my elbow 
and said, " Child, don't look toward the win- 
dow, the banshees are out to-night." We 
knelt together beside the bed and said our 
beads; then, without undressing save pulling 
off our shoes, we crawled under our blankets 
and lay on the sweet, clean pine. We were 
both perfectly worn out, but we could not 
sleep. There seemed to be hundreds of dif- 
ferent noises of the storm, for there are so 
many canons, so many crooks and turns, 
and the great forest too. The wind was 
shrieking, howling, and roaring all at once. 
A deep boom announced the fall of some 
giant of the forest. I finally dozed off even 
in that terrible din, but Zebbie was not so 
112 




v/ctovaH 



ZEBULON PIKE 



ZEBBIE'S STORY 

frenzied as he had been. He was playing 
"Annie Laurie," and that song has always 
been a favorite of mine. The storm began 
gradually to die away and "Annie Laurie" 
sounded so beautiful. I was thinking of 
Pauline and, I know, to Zebbie, Annie Laurie 
and Pauline Gorley are one and the same. 

I knew no more until I heard Zebbie call 
out, "Ho, you sleepy-heads, it's day." Mrs. 
O'Shaughnessy turned over and said she was 
still sleepy. My former visit had taught me 
what beauty the early morning would spread 
before me, so I dressed hastily and went out- 
doors. Zebbie called me to go for a little 
walk. The amber light of the new day was 
chasing the violet and amethyst shadows 
down the canons. It was all more beautiful 
than I can tell you. On one side the canon- 
walls were almost straight up. It looked as 
if we might step off into a very world of 
mountains. Soon Old Baldy wore a crown of 
gleaming gold. The sun was up. We walked 
on and soon came to a brook. We were wash- 
113 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

ing our faces in its icy waters when we heard 
twigs breaking, so we stood perfectly still. 
From out the undergrowth of birch and wil- 
lows came a deer with two fawns. They 
stopped to drink, and nibbled the bushes. 
But soon they scented strangers, and, look- 
ing about with their beautiful, startled eyes, 
they saw us and away they went like the 
wind. We saw many great trees up torn by 
the storm. High up on the cliffs Zebbie 
showed me where the eagles built every 
year. . . . We turned homeward and sat 
down upon the trunk of a fallen pine to rest 
and take another look at the magnificent 
view. Zebbie was silent, but presently he 
threw a handful of pebbles down the canon 
wall. M I am not sorry Pauline is dead. I 
have never shed a tear. I know you think 
that is odd, but I have never wanted to 
mourn. I am glad that it is as it is. I am 
happy and at peace because I know she is 
mine. The little breeze is Pauline's own 
voice; she had a little caressing way just like 
114 



ZEBBIE'S STORY 

the gentlest breeze when it stirs your hair. 
There is something in everything that brings 
back Pauline: the beauty of the morning, 
the song of a bird or the flash of its wings. 
The flowers look like she did. So I have not 
lost her, she is mine more than ever. I have 
always felt so, but was never quite sure until 
I went back and saw where they laid her. 
I know people think I am crazy, but I don't 
care for that. I shall not hate to die. When 
you get to be as old as I am, child, every- 
thing will have a new meaning to you." 

At last we slowly walked back to the cabin, 
and at breakfast Zebbie told of the damage 
the storm had done. He was so common- 
place that no one ever would have guessed 
his strange fancy. . . . 

I shall never forget Zebbie as I last saw 
him. It was the morning we started home. 
After we left the bench that Zebbie lives on, 
our road wound down into a deeper canon. 
Zebbie had followed us to where a turn in the 
canon should hide us from view. I looked 
115 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

back and saw him standing on the cliffs, 
high above us, the early morning sun turn- 
ing his snowy hair to gold, the breeze- fingers 
of Pauline tossing the scanty locks. I shall 
always remember him so, a living monument 
to a dead past. 

Elinore Stewart. 



XII 

A CONTENTED COUPLE 

October 6, 191 1. 

Dear Mrs. Coney, — 

. . . I once "heared" Sedalia Lane telling 
some of her experiences, and she said she " sur- 
reptitiously stole along." One day, when I 
thought the coast was clear, I was surrepti- 
tiously examining the contents of the tool- 
chest with a view toward securing to myself 
such hammers, saws, and what else I might 
need in doing some carpentry work I had 
planned. The tool-chest is kept in the gran- 
ary , both it and the granary are usually kept 
locked. Now the "gude mon" has an idea 
that a "wooman" needs no tools, and the use 
and misuse of his tools have led to numbers 
of inter-household wars. I was gloating over 
my opportunity, and also making the best 
of it, when a medley of burring Scotch voices 
117 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

brought me to a quick realization that dis- 
cretion is the better part of valor. So I went 
into seclusion behind a tall oat-bin. It 
seemed that two neighbors whom I had never 
seen were preparing to go to town, and had 
come to get some tools and to see if the 
Stewart would lend them each a team. Now 
Mr. Stewart must be very righteous, because 
he certainly regardeth his beast, although 
he does n't always love his neighbor as him- 
self. He was willing, however, for friends 
Tarn Campbell and Archie McEttrick to use 
his teams, but he himself would take a lighter 
rig and go along, so as to see that his horses 
were properly cared for, and to help out in 
case of need. 

They made their plans, set the day, and 
went their ways. As soon as I could, I made 
myself scarce about the granary and very 
busy about the house, and, like Josiah Allen, 
I was in a very "happyfied" state of mind. 
There is nothing Mr. Stewart likes better 
than to catch me unprepared for something. 
118 



A CONTENTED COUPLE 

I had been wanting to go to town, and he had 
said I might go with him next time he went, 
if I was ready when he was. I knew I would 
not hear one word about the proposed trip, 
but that only added to the fun. I had plenty 
of time to make all preparations ; so the day 
before they were to start found me with all 
in readiness. It was quite early in the spring 
and the evenings were quite chilly. We had 
just finished supper, when we heard a great 
rumbling, and I knew neighbors Campbell 
and McEttrick had arrived on their way to 
town ; so I began to prepare supper for them. 
I had n't expected a woman, and was sur- 
prised when I saw the largest, most ungainly 
person I have ever met come shambling 
toward me. 

She was Aggie McEttrick. She is tall and 
raw-boned, she walks with her toes turned 
out, she has a most peculiar lurching gait 
like a camel's. She has skin the color of a 
new saddle, and the oddest straggly straw- 
colored hair. She never wears corsets and 
119 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

never makes her waists long enough, so there 
is always a streak of gray undershirt visible 
about her waist. Her skirts are never long 
enough either, and she knits her own stock- 
ings. Those inclined can always get a good 
glimpse of blue-and-white striped hose. She 
said, "I guess you are the Missus." And 
that was every word she said until I had 
supper on the table. The men were busy 
with their teams, and she sat with her feet 
in my oven, eyeing my every movement. I 
told her we had just had our supper, but she 
waited until I had theirs ready before she 
announced that neither she nor Archie ate hot 
biscuits or steak, that they did n't take tea 
for supper, preferred coffee, and that neither 
of them could eat peaches or honey. So all of 
my supper was ruled off except the butter 
and cream. She went down to their wagons 
and brought up what she wanted, so Tarn 
Campbell was the only one who ate my 
honey and biscuit. 

Tarn is just a Scot with an amazingly close 
120 



A CONTENTED COUPLE 

fist, and he is very absent-minded. I had 
met Annie, his wife, and their six children. 
She told me of his absent-mindedness. Her 
remedy for his trouble when it came to house- 
hold needs was to repeat the article two or 
three times in the list. People out like we 
are buy a year's supply at a time. So a list 
of needed things is made up and sent into 
town. Tarn always managed to forget a 
great many things. 

Well, bedtime came. I offered to show them 
to their room, but Aggie said, "We'll nae 
sleep in your bed. We'll jest bide in the 
kitchen." I could not persuade her to change 
her mind. Tarn slept at the barn in order 
to see after the "beasties," should they need 
attention during the night. As I was pre- 
paring for bed, Aggie thrust her head into 
my room and announced that she would be 
up at three o'clock. I am not an early bird, 
so I thought I would let Aggie get her own 
breakfast, and I told her she would find 
everything in the pantry. As long as I was 
121 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

awake I could hear Archie and Aggie talk- 
ing, but I could not imagine what about. I 
did n't know their habits so well as I came 
to later. Next morning the rumbling of their 
wagons awakened me, but I turned over and 
slept until after six. 

There are always so many things to do be- 
fore leaving that it was nine o'clock before 
we got started. We had only gotten about 
two miles, when Mr. Stewart remembered 
he had not locked the granary, so back we 
trotted. We nooned only a few miles from 
home. We knew we could not catch the 
wagons before camping-time unless we drove 
very hard, so Mr. Stewart said we would 
go by the Edmonsons' and spend the night 
there. I enjoy even the memory of that drive 
through the short spring afternoon, — the 
warm red sand of the desert ; the Wind River 
Mountains wrapped in the blue veil of dis- 
tance; the sparse gray-green sage, ugly in 
itself, but making complete a beautiful pic- 
ture; the occasional glimpse we had of shy, 
122 



A CONTENTED COUPLE 

beautiful wild creatures. So much happiness 
can be crowded into so short a time. I was 
glad, though, when Cora Belle's home became 
a part of our beautiful picture. It is situ- 
ated among great red buttes, and there is a 
blue lake back of the house. Around the 
lake is a fringe of willows. Their house is 
a low, rambling affair, with a long, low porch 
and a red clay roof. Before the house is a 
cotton- wood tree, its gnarled, storm- twisted 
branches making it seem to have the "rheu- 
matiz." There is a hop- vine at one end of the 
porch. It had not come out when we were 
there, but the dead vine clung hopelessly to 
its supports. 

Little Cora Belle just bubbled with delight, 
and her grandparents were scarcely better 
than she. Spring house-cleaning was just 
finished, and they have company so seldom 
that they made us feel that we were doing 
them a favor by stopping. Poor old "Pa" 
hobbled out to help put the team away, and 
when they came back, Cora Belle asked me 
123 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

out to help prepare supper, so I left Mr. 
Stewart with "Granny" and "Pa" to listen 
to their recitals and to taste their many 
medicines. Cora Belle is really an excellent 
housekeeper. Her cooking would surprise 
many people. Her bread was delicious, and I 
am sure I never tasted anything better than 
the roasted leg of lamb she gave us for supper. 
I am ashamed to tell you how much I ate of 
her carrot jam. From where I sat I had a 
splendid view of the sunset across the lake. 
Speaking of things singly, Wyoming has 
nothing beautiful to offer. Taken altogether, 
it is grandly beautiful, and at sunrise and 
sunset the "heavens declare His glory." 

Cora Belle is so animated and so straight- 
forward, so entirely clean in all her thoughts 
and actions, that she commands love and 
respect at one and the same time. After sup- 
per her grandfather asked her to sing and 
play for us. Goodness only knows where 
they got the funny little old organ that Cora 
Belle thinks so much of. It has spots all over 
124 



A CONTENTED COUPLE 

it of medicine that has been spilled at differ- 
ent times, and it has, as Cora Belle said, lost 
its voice in spots; but that does n't set back 
Cora Belle at all, she plays away just as if 
it was all right. Some of the keys keep up 
a mournful whining and groaning, entirely 
outside of the tune. Cora Belle says they 
play themselves. After several "pieces" had 
been endured, "Pa" said, "Play my piece, 
Cory Belle"; so we had "Bingen on the 
Rhine" played and sung from A to izzard. 
Dear old "Pa," his pain- twisted old face 
just beamed with pride. I doubt if heaven 
will have for him any sweeter music than his 
"baby's" voice. Granny's squeaky, trembly 
old voice trailed in after Cora Belle's, always 
a word or two behind. "Tell my friends and 
companions when they meet and scrouge 
around " ; that is the way they sang it, but no 
one would have cared for that, if they had 
noticed with what happy eagerness the two 
sang together. The grandparents would like 
to have sat up all night singing and telling of 
125 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

things that happened in bygone days, but 
poor tired little Cora Belle began to nod, so 
we retired. As we were preparing for bed it 
suddenly occurred to Mr. Stewart that I had 
not been surprised when going to town was 
mentioned, so he said, "Wooman, how did it 
happen that you were ready when I was to 
gae to the toone? " "Oh," I said, " I knew you 
were going." "Who tell it ye?" "A little 
bird." " 'T was some fool wooman, mayhap." 
I did n't feel it necessary to enlighten him, 
and I think he is still wondering how I knew. 
Next morning we were off early, but we 
did n't come up with the wagons until almost 
camping-time. The great heavily-loaded 
wagons were creaking along over the heavy 
sands. The McEttricks were behind, Aggie's 
big frame swaying and lurching with every 
jolt of the wagon. They never travel without 
their German socks. They are great thick 
things to wear on the outside of their shoes. 
As we came up behind them, we could see 
Aggie's big socks dangling and bobbing 
126 



A CONTENTED COUPLE 

beside Archie's from where they were tied on 
the back part of the wagon. We could hear 
them talking and see them gesticulating. 
When we came nearer, we found they were 
quarreling, and they kept at it as long as I 
was awake that night. After the men had 
disposed of their loads, they and Mr. Stewart 
were going out of town to where a new coal- 
mine was being opened. I intended to go on 
the train to Rock Springs to do some shop- 
ping. Aggie said she was going also. I sug- 
gested that we get a room together, as we 
would have to wait several hours for the 
train, but she was suspicious of my motives. 
She is greatly afraid of being "done," so she 
told me to get my own room and pay for it. 
We got into town about three o'clock in the 
afternoon, and the train left at midnight. 

I had gone to my room, and Jerrine and 
myself were enjoying a good rest after our 
fatiguing drive, when my door was thrown 
open and a very angry Aggie strode in. They 
asked us fifty cents each for our rooms. Aggie 
127 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

paid hers under protest and afterward got to 
wondering how long she was entitled to its 
use. She had gone back to the clerk about it, 
and he had told her for that night only. She 
argued that she should have her room for a 
quarter, as she would only use it until mid- 
night. When that failed, she asked for her 
money back, but the clerk was out of patience 
and refused her that. Aggie was angry all 
through. She vowed she was being robbed. 
After she had berated me soundly for submit- 
ting so tamely, she flounced back to her own 
room, declaring she would get even with the 
robbers. I had to hurry like everything that 
night to get myself and Jerrine ready for the 
train, so I could spare no time for Aggie. She 
was not at the depot, and Jerrine and I had 
to go on to Rock Springs without her. It is 
only a couple of hours from Green River to 
Rock Springs, so I had a good nap and a late 
breakfast. I did my shopping and was back 
at Green River at two that afternoon. The 
first person I saw was Aggie. She sat in the 
128 



A CONTENTED COUPLE 

depot, glowering at everybody. She had a 
basket of eggs and a pail of butter, which she 
had been trying to sell. She was waiting for 
the night train, the only one she could get to 
Rock Springs. I asked her had she overslept. 
"No, I didna," she replied. Then, she pro- 
ceeded to tell me that, as she had paid for a 
whole night's use of a room, she had stayed 
to get its use. That it had made her plans 
miscarry did n't seem to count. 

After all our business was attended to, we 
started for home. The wagons were half a 
day ahead of us. When we came in sight, 
we could see Aggie fanning the air with her 
long arms, and we knew they were quarrel- 
ing. I remarked that I could not understand 
how persons who hated each other so could 
live together. Clyde told me I had much 
to learn, and said that really he knew of no 
other couple who were actually so devoted. 
He said to prove it I should ask Aggie into 
the buggy with me and he would get in with 
Archie, and afterwards we would compare 
129 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

notes. He drove up alongside of them, and 
Aggie seemed glad to make the exchange. 
As we had the buggy, we drove ahead of the 
wagons. It seems that Archie and Aggie are 
each jealous of the other. Archie is as ugly 
a little monkey as it would be possible to 
imagine. She bemeaned him until at last I 
asked her why she did n't leave him, and 
added that I would not stand such cranki- 
ness for one moment. Then she poured out 
the vials of her wrath upon my head, only I 
don't think they were vials but barrels. 

About sundown we made it to where we 
intended to camp and found that Mrs. 
O'Shaughnessy had established a sheep-camp 
there, and was out with her herd herself, 
having only Manny, a Mexican boy she had 
brought up herself, for a herder. She wel- 
comed us cordially and began supper for our 
entire bunch. Soon the wagons came, and all 
was confusion for a few minutes getting the 
horses put away for the night. Aggie went 
to her wagon as soon as it stopped and made 
130 



A CONTENTED COUPLE 

secure her butter and eggs against a possible 
raid by Mrs. O'Shaughnessy. Having asked 
too high a price for them, she had failed to 
sell them and was taking them back. After 
supper we were sitting around the fire, Tarn 
going over his account and lamenting that 
because of his absent-mindedness he had 
bought a whole hundred pounds of sugar 
more than he had intended, Aggie and 
Archie silent for once, pouting I suspect. 
Clyde smiled across the camp-fire at me and 
said, " Gin ye had sic a lass as I hae, ye might 
blither." ''Gin ye had sic a mon as mine — " 
I began, but Mrs. O'Shaughnessy said, "Gin 
ye had sic a mon as I hae." Then we all 
three laughed, for we had each heard the 
same thing, and we knew the McEttricks 
would n't fight each other. They suspected 
us of laughing at them, for Archie said to 
Aggie, "Aggie, lass, is it sport they are mak- 
ing of our love? " " 'T is daft they be, Archie, 
lad; we'll nae mind their blither." She arose 
and shambled across to Archie and hunkered 
131 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

her big self down beside him. We went to 
bed and left them peaceable for once. 

I am really ashamed of the way I have 
treated you, but I know you will forgive me. 
I am not strong yet, and my eyes are still 
bothering me, but I hope to be all right soon 
now, and I promise you a better letter next 
time. Jerrine is very proud of her necklace. 
I think they are so nice for children. I can 
remember how proud I was of mine when I 
was a child. Please give your brother our 
thanks, and tell him his little gift made my 
little girl very happy. 

I am afraid this letter will seem rather 
jumbled. I still want the address of your 
friend in Salem or any other. I shall find 
time to write, and I am not going to let my 
baby prevent me from having many enjoy- 
able outings. We call our boy Henry Clyde 
for his father. He is a dear little thing, but 
he is a lusty yeller for baby's rights. 
With much love, 

Jerrine and her Mamma. 



XIII 

PROVING UP 

October 14, 191 1. 

Dear Mrs. Coney, — 

I think you must be expecting an answer 
to your letter by now, so I will try to answer 
as many of your questions as I remember. 
Your letter has been mislaid. We have been 
very much rushed all this week. We had the 
thresher crew two days. I was busy cooking 
for them two days before they came, and 
have been busy ever since cleaning up after 
them. Clyde has taken the thresher on up 
the valley to thresh for the neighbors, and 
all the men have gone along, so the children 
and I are alone. No, I shall not lose my land, 
although it will be over two years before I 
can get a deed to it. The five years in which 
I am required to "prove up " will have passed 
by then. I could n't have held my homestead 
133 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

if Clyde had also been proving up, but he 
had accomplished that years ago and has his 
deed, so I am allowed my homestead. Also 
I have not yet used my desert right, so I am 
still entitled to one hundred and sixty acres 
more. I shall file on that much some day 
when I have sufficient money of my own 
earning. The law requires a cash payment of 
twenty- five cents per acre at the filing, and 
one dollar more per acre when final proof is 
made. I should not have married if Clyde 
had not promised I should meet all my land 
difficulties unaided. I wanted the fun and 
the experience. For that reason I want to 
earn every cent that goes into my own land 
and improvements myself. Sometimes I al- 
most have a brain-storm wondering how I 
am going to do it, but I know I shall succeed ; 
other women have succeeded. I know of 
several who are now where they can laugh 
at past trials. Do you know? — I am a firm 
believer in laughter. I am real superstitious 
about it. I think if Bad Luck came along, he 
134 



PROVING UP 

would take to his heels if some one laughed 
right loudly. 

I think Jerrine must be born for the law. 
She always threshes out questions that 
arise, to her own satisfaction, if to no one 
else's. She prayed for a long time for her 
brother; also she prayed for some puppies. 
The puppies came, but we did n't let her 
know they were here until they were able to 
walk. One morning she saw them following 
their mother, so she danced for joy. When 
her little brother came she was plainly dis- 
appointed. "Mamma," she said, "did God 
really make the baby?" "Yes, dear." "Then 
He has n't treated us fairly, and I should 
like to know why. The puppies could walk 
when He finished them; the calves can, too. 
The pigs can, and the colt, and even the 
chickens. What is the use of giving us a half- 
finished baby? He has no hair, and no teeth ; 
he can't walk or talk, nor do anything else 
but squall and sleep." 

After many days she got the question 
135 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

settled. She began right where she left off. 
"I know, Mamma, why God gave us such 
a half-finished baby; so he could learn our 
ways, and no one else's, since he must live 
with us, and so we could learn to love him. 
Every time I stand beside his buggy he 
laughs and then I love him, but I don't love 
Stella nor Marvin because they laugh. So 
that is why." Perhaps that is the reason. 

Zebbie's kinsfolk have come and taken 
him back to Yell County. I should not be 
surprised if he never returned. The Lanes 
and the Pattersons leave shortly for Idaho, 
where "our Bobbie" has made some large 
investments. 

I hope to hear from you soon and that you 
are enjoying every minute. With much love, 
Your friend, 

Elinore Stewart. 



XIV 

THE NEW HOUSE 

December I, 191 1. 

Dear Mrs. Coney, — 

I feel just like visiting to-night, so I am 
going to "play like" you have come. It is so 
good to have you to chat with. Please be 
seated in this low rocker; it is a present to 
me from the Pattersons and I am very proud 
of it. I am just back from the Patterson 
ranch, and they have a dear little boy who 
came the 20th of November and they call 
him Robert Lane. 

I am sure this room must look familiar to 
you, for there is so much in it that was once 
yours. I have two rooms, each fifteen by 
fifteen, but this one on the south is my 
"really" room and in it are my treasures. 
My house faces east and is built up against 
a side-hill, or should I say hillside? Anyway, 
137 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

they had to excavate quite a lot. I had them 
dump the dirt right before the house and 
terrace it smoothly. I have sown my terrace 
to California poppies, and around my porch, 
which is six feet wide and thirty long, I have 
planted wild cucumbers. 

Every log in my house is as straight as a 
pine can grow. Each room has a window and 
a door on the east side, and the south room 
has two windows on the south with space 
between for my heater, which is one of those 
with a grate front so I can see the fire burn. 
It is almost as good as a fireplace. The logs 
are unhewed outside because I like the rough 
finish, but inside the walls are perfectly 
square and smooth. The cracks in the walls 
are snugly filled with "daubing" and then 
the walls are covered with heavy gray 
building-paper, which makes the room very 
warm, and I really like the appearance. I 
had two rolls of wall-paper with a bold rose 
pattern. By being very careful I was able to 
cut out enough of the roses, which are divided 
138 




' 



THE STEWART CABIN 



THE NEW HOUSE 

in their choice of color as to whether they 
should be red, yellow, or pink, to make a bor- 
der about eighteen inches from the ceiling. 
They brighten up the wall and the gray paper 
is fine to hang pictures upon. Those you 
have sent us make our room very attractive. 
The woodwork is stained a walnut brown, 
oil finish, and the floor is stained and oiled 
just like it. In the corners by the stove and 
before the windows we take our comfort. 

From some broken bamboo fishing-rods I 
made frames for two screens. These I painted 
black with some paint that was left from the 
buggy, and Gavotte fixed the screens so they 
will stay balanced, and put in casters forme. 
I had a piece of blue curtain calico and with 
brass-headed tacks I put it on the frame of 
Jerrine's screen, then I mixed some paste 
and let her decorate it to suit herself on 
the side that should be next her corner. She 
used the cards you sent her. Some of the 
people have a suspiciously tottering appear- 
ance, perhaps not so very artistic, but they 
139 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

all mean something to a little girl whose 
small fingers worked patiently to attain sat- 
isfactory results. She has a set of shelves on 
which her treasures of china are arranged. 
On the floor is a rug made of two goatskins 
dyed black, a present from Gavotte, who 
heard her admiring Zebbie's bearskin. She 
has a tiny red rocking-chair which she has 
outgrown, but her rather dilapidated family 
of dolls use it for an automobile. For a seat 
for herself she has a small hassock that you 
gave me, and behind the blue screen is a 
world apart. 

My screen is made just like Jerrine's ex- 
cept that the cover is cream material with 
sprays of wild roses over it. In my corner I 
have a cot made up like a couch. One of my 
pillows is covered with some checked ging- 
ham that "Dawsie" cross-stitched for me. 
I have a cabinet bookcase made from an old 
walnut bedstead that was a relic of the Moun- 
tain Meadow Massacre. Gavotte made it for 
me. In it I have my few books, some odds 
140 



THE NEW HOUSE 

and ends of china, all gifts, and a few fossil 
curios. For a floor-covering I have a braided 
rug of blue and white, made from old sheets 
and Jerrine's old dresses. In the center of 
my room is a square table made of pine and 
stained brown. Over it is a table-cover that 
you gave me. Against the wall near my bed 
is my "dresser." It is a box with shelves 
and is covered with the same material as my 
screen. Above it I have a mirror, but it 
makes ugly faces at me every time I look 
into it. Upon the wall near by is a match- 
holder that you gave me. It is the heads of 
two fisher-folk. The man has lost his nose, 
but the old lady still thrusts out her tongue. 
The material on my screen and "dresser" I 
bought for curtains, then decided to use some 
white crossbar I had. But I wish I had not, 
for every time I look at them I think of poor 
little Mary Ann Parker. 

I am going to make you a cup of tea and 
wonder if you will see anything familiar 
about the teapot. You should, I think, for it 
141 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

is another of your many gifts to me. Now 
I feel that you have a fairly good idea of 
what my house looks like, on the inside any- 
way. The magazines and Jerrine's cards and 
Mother Goose book came long ago, and Jer- 
rine and I were both made happy. I wish 
I could do nice things for you, but all I can 
do is to love you. 

Your sincere friend, 

Elinore Rupert. 



XV 

THE "STOCKING-LEG" DINNER 

February, 19 12. 

Dear Mrs. Coney, — 

. . . This time I want to tell you about a 
"stocking-leg" dinner which I attended not 
long ago. It does n't sound very respectable, 
but it was one of the happiest events I ever 
remember. 

Mrs. Louderer was here visiting us, and 
one afternoon we were all in the kitchen 
when Gavotte came skimming along on the 
first pair of snowshoes I ever saw. We have 
had lots of snow this winter, and many of the 
hollows and gullies are packed full. Gavotte 
had no difficulty in coming, and he had come 
for the mail and to invite us to a feast of "ze 
hose." I could not think what kind of a 
dinner it could be, and I did not believe that 
Mr. Stewart would go, but after Gavotte 
143 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

had explained how much easier it was now 
than at any other time because the hard- 
packed snow made it possible to go with 
bobsleds, I knew he would go. I can't say I 
really wanted to go, but Mrs. Louderer took 
it for granted that it would be delightful, so 
she and Mr. Stewart did the planning. Next 
morning Gavotte met Mrs. O'Shaughnessy 
and invited her. Then, taking the mail, he 
went on ahead to blaze a trail we should 
follow with the sleds. We were to start two 
days later. They planned we could easily 
make the trip in a day, as, with the gulches 
filled with snow, short cuts were possible, 
and we could travel at a good pace, as we 
would have a strong team. To me it seemed 
dangerous, but dinner-parties have not been 
so plenty that I could miss one. So, when the 
day came on which we were to start, we were 
up betimes and had a mess-box packed and 
Mr. Stewart had a big pile of rocks hot. We 
all wore our warmest clothes, and the rest 
carried out hot rocks and blankets while I 
144 



THE "STOCKING-LEG" DINNER 

put the kitchen in such order that the men 
left to feed the stock would have no trouble 
in getting their meals. Mr. Stewart carried 
out the mess-box, and presently we were off. 
We had a wagon-box on bobsleds, and the 
box was filled with hay and hot rocks with 
blankets on top and more to cover us. Mr. 
Stewart had two big bags of grain in front, 
feed for the horses, and he sat on them. 

It was a beautiful day and we jogged along 
merrily. We had lots of fun, and as we went 
a new way, there was much that was new to 
Mrs. O'Shaughnessy and myself, and it was 
all new to the rest. Gavotte had told us 
where we should noon, and we reached the 
place shortly after twelve. Mr. Stewart 
went to lift out the mess-box, — but he had 
forgotten to put it in! Oh, dear! We were 
a disappointed lot. I don't think I was ever 
so hungry, but there was nothing for it but 
to grin and bear it. It did me some good, 
though, to remember how a man misses his 
dinner. The horses had to be fed, so we 
145 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

walked about while they were eating. We 
went up a canon that had high cliffs on one 
side, and came to a place where, high up on 
the rock wall, in great black letters, was this 
legend: "Dick fell off of this here clift and 
died." I should think there would be no 
question that any one who fell from that 
place on to the boulders below would die. 

Soon we started again, and if not quite so 
jolly as we were before, at least we looked 
forward to our supper with a keen relish and 
the horses were urged faster than they other- 
wise would have been. The beautiful snow 
is rather depressing, however, when there 
is snow everywhere. The afternoon passed 
swiftly and the horses were becoming jaded. 
At four o'clock it was almost dark. We had 
been going up a deep canon and came upon 
an appalling sight. There had been a snow- 
slide and the canon was half-filled with snow, 
rock, and broken trees. The whole way was 
blocked, and what to do we did n't know, for 
the horses could hardly be gotten along and 
146 



THE "STOCKING-LEG" DINNER 

we could not pass the snow-slide. We were 
twenty-five miles from home, night was al- 
most upon us, and we were almost starved. 
But we were afraid to stay in that canon lest 
more snow should slide and bury us, so sadly 
we turned back to find as comfortable a 
place as we could to spend the night. The 
prospects were very discouraging, and I am 
afraid we were all near tears, when suddenly 
there came upon the cold air a clear blast 
from a horn. Mrs. Louderer cried, " Ach, der 
reveille!" Once I heard a lecturer tell of 
climbing the Matterhorn and the calls we 
heard brought his story to mind. No music 
could have been so beautiful. It soon became 
apparent that we were being signaled ; so we 
drove in the direction of the sound and found 
ourselves going up a wide canon. We had 
passed the mouth of it shortly before we 
had come to the slide. Even the tired horses 
took new courage, and every few moments a 
sweet, clear call put new heart into us. Soon 
we saw a light. We had to drive very slowly 
147 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

and in places barely crept. The bugler 
changed his notes and we knew he was won- 
dering if we were coming, so Mr. Stewart 
helloed. At once we had an answer, and 
after that we were steadily guided by the 
horn. Many times we could not see the light, 
but we drove in the right direction because 
we could hear the horn. 

At last, when it was quite dark and the 
horses could go no farther, we drew up before 
the fire that had been our beacon light. It 
was a bonfire built out upon a point of rock 
at the end of the canon. Back from it among 
the pines was a 'dobe house. A dried-up 
mummy of a man advanced from the fire 
to meet us, explaining that he had seen us 
through his field-glasses and, knowing about 
the snow-slide, had ventured to attract us 
to his poor place. Carlota Juanita was 
within, prepared for the senoras, if they 
would but walk in. If they would! More 
dead than alive, we scrambled out, cold- 
stiffened and hungry. Carlota Juanita threw 
148 



THE "STOCKING-LEG" DINNER 

open the low, wide door and we stumbled 
into comfort. She hastened to help us off 
with our wraps, piled more wood on the 
open fire, and busied herself to make us 
welcome and comfortable. Poor Carlota 
Juanita! Perhaps you think she was some 
slender, limpid-eyed, olive-cheeked beauty. 
She was fat and forty, but not fair. She had 
the biggest wad of hair that I ever saw, and 
her face was so fat that her eyes looked 
beady. She wore an old heelless pair of 
slippers or sandals that would hardly stay 
on, and at every step they made the most 
exasperating sliding noise, but she was all 
kindness and made us feel very welcome. 
The floor was of dirt, and they had the lar- 
gest fireplace I have ever seen, with the 
widest, cleanest hearth, which was where 
they did their cooking. All their furniture 
was home-made, and on a low bench near the 
door were three water-jars which, I am sure, 
were handmade. Away back in a corner they 
had a small altar, on which was a little statue 
149 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

of Mary and the Child. Before it, suspended 
by a wire from the rafters, was a cow's horn 
in which a piece of punk was burning, just as 
the incense is kept burning in churches. Sup- 
per was already prepared and was simmering 
and smoking on the hearth. As soon as the 
men came in, Carlota Juanita put it on the 
table, which was bare of cloth. I can't say 
that I really like Mexican bread, but they 
certainly know how to cook meat. They had 
a most wonderful pot-roast with potatoes and 
corn dumplings that were delicious. The roast 
had been slashed in places and small bits of 
garlic, pepper, bacon, and, I think, parsley, 
inserted. After it and the potatoes and the 
dumplings were done, Carlota had poured 
in a can of tomatoes. You may not think 
that was good, but I can assure you it was 
and that we did ample justice to it. After 
we had eaten until we were hardly able to 
swallow, Carlota Juanita served a queer 
Mexican pie. It was made of dried buffalo- 
berries, stewed and made very sweet. A 
150 



THE "STOCKING-LEG" DINNER 

layer of batter had been poured into a deep 
baking-dish, then the berries, and then more 
batter. Then it was baked and served hot 
with plenty of hard sauce ; and it was power- 
ful good, too. She had very peculiar coffee 
with goat's milk in it. I took mine without 
the milk, but I could n't make up my mind 
that I liked the coffee. We sat around the 
fire drinking it, when Manuel Pedro Felipe 
told us it was some he had brought from 
Mexico. I did n't know they raised it there, 
but he told us many interesting things about 
it. He and Carlota Juanita both spoke 
fairly good English. They had lived for 
many years in their present home and had 
some sheep, a few goats, a cow or two, a few 
pigs, and chickens and turkeys. They had a 
small patch of land that Carlota Juanita 
tilled and on which was raised the squaw 
corn that hung in bunches from the rafters. 
Down where we live we can't get sweet corn 
to mature, but here, so much higher up, they 
have a sheltered little nook where they are 
151 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

able to raise many things. Upon a long shelf 
above the fire was an ugly old stone image, 
the bottom broken off and some plaster 
applied to make it set level. The ugly thing 
they had brought with them from some old 
ruined temple in Mexico. We were all so 
very tired that soon Carlota Juanita brought 
out an armful of the thickest, brightest rugs 
and spread them over the floor for us to sleep 
upon. The men retired to a lean-to room, 
where they slept, but not before Manuel 
Pedro Felipe and Carlota had knelt be- 
fore their altar for their devotions. Mrs. 
O'Shaughnessy and myself and Jerrine, 
knowing the rosary, surprised them by 
kneeling with them. It is good to meet with 
kindred faith away off in the mountains. It 
seems there could not possibly be a mistake 
when people so far away from creeds and 
doctrines hold to the faith of their child- 
hood and find the practice a pleasure after 
so many years. The men bade us good- 
night, and we lost no time in settling our- 
152 



THE "STOCKING-LEG" DINNER 

selves to rest. Luckily we had plenty of 
blankets. 

Away in the night I was awakened by a 
noise that frightened me. All was still, but 
instantly there flashed through my mind 
tales of murdered travelers, and I was al- 
most paralyzed with fear when again I heard 
that stealthy, sliding noise, just like Carlota 
Juanita's old slippers. The fire had burned 
down, but just then the moon came from 
behind a cloud and shone through the win- 
dow upon Carlota Juanita, who was asleep 
with her mouth open. I could also see a pine 
bough which was scraping against the wall 
outside, which was perhaps making the noise. 
I turned over and saw the punk burning, 
which cast a dim light over the serene face 
of the Blessed Virgin, so all fear vanished 
and I slept as long as they would let me in 
the morning. After a breakfast of tortillas, 
cheese, and rancid butter, and some more of 
the coffee, we started again for the stocking- 
leg dinner. Carlota Juanita stood in the 
153 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

door, waving to us as long as we could see 
her, and Manuel P. F. sat with Mr. Stewart 
to guide us around the snow-slide. Under 
one arm he carried the horn with which he 
had called us to him. It came from some 
long-horned cow in Mexico, was beautifully 
polished, and had a fancy rim of silver. I 
should like to own it, but I could not make 
it produce a sound. When we were safe on 
our way our guide left us, and our spirits 
ran high again. The horses were feeling 
good also, so it was a merry, laughing party 
that drew up before Zebbie's two hours 
later. 

Long before I had lent Gavotte a set of 
the Leather-Stocking Tales, which he had 
read aloud to Zebbie. Together they had 
planned a Leather-Stocking dinner, at which 
should be served as many of the viands men- 
tioned in the Tales as possible. We stayed 
two days and it was one long feast. We had 
venison served in half a dozen different ways. 
We had antelope; we had porcupine, or 
154 



THE -STOCKING-LEG" DINNER 

hedgehog, as Pathfinder called it; and also 
we had beaver- tail, which he found tooth- 
some, but which I did not. We had grouse 
and sage hen. They broke the ice and 
snared a lot of trout. In their cellar they 
had a barrel of trout prepared exactly like 
mackerel, and they were more delicious than 
mackerel because they were finer-grained. 
I had been a little disappointed in Zebbie 
after his return from home. It seemed to me 
that Pauline had spoiled him. I guess I was 
jealous. This time he was the same little old 
Zebbie I had first seen. He seemed to thor- 
oughly enjoy our visit, and I am sure we 
each had the time of our lives. We made 
it home without mishap the same day we 
started, all of us sure life held something 
new and enjoyable after all. 

If nothing happens there are some more 
good times in store for me this summer. 
Gavotte once worked under Professor Mars- 
den when he was out here getting fossils for 
the Smithsonian Institution, and he is very 
155 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

interesting to listen to. He has invited us to 
go with him out to the Bad-Land hills in 
the summer to search for fossils. The hills 
are only a few miles from here and I look 
forward to a splendid time. 



XVI 

THE HORSE-THIEVES 

[No date.] 
Dear Mrs. Coney, — 

... I am so afraid that you will get an 
overdose of culture from your visit to the 
Hub and am sending you an antidote of our 
sage, sand, and sunshine. 

Mrs. Louderer had come over to see our 
boy. Together we had prepared supper and 
were waiting for Clyde, who had gone to the 
post-office. Soon he came, and after the 
usual friendly wrangling between him and 
Mrs. Louderer we had supper. Then they 
began their inevitable game of cribbage, 
while I sat near the fire with Baby on my lap. 
Clyde was telling us of a raid on a ranch 
about seventy- five miles away, in which the 
thieves had driven off thirty head of fine 
horses. There were only two of the thieves, 
157 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

and the sheriff with a large posse was pursu- 
ing them and forcing every man they came 
across into the chase, and a regular man-hunt 
was on. It was interesting only because one 
of the thieves was a noted outlaw then out 
on parole and known to be desperate. We 
were in no way alarmed; the trouble was all 
in the next county, and somehow that always 
seems so far away. We knew if the men ever 
came together there would be a pitched 
battle, with bloodshed and death, but there 
seemed little chance that the sheriff would 
ever overtake the men. 

I remember I was feeling sorry for the poor 
fellows with a price on their heads, — the 
little pink man on my lap had softened my 
heart wonderfully. Jerrine was enjoying the 
pictures in a paper illustrating early days on 
the range, wild scenes of roping and brand- 
ing. I had remarked that I did n't believe 
there were any more such times, when Mrs. 
Louderer replied, " Dot yust shows how much 
it iss you do not know. You shall come to 
158 



THE HORSE-THIEVES 

mine house and when away you come it shall 
be wiser as when you left." I had kept at 
home very closely all summer, and a little 
trip seemed the most desirable thing I could 
think of, particularly as the baby would be 
in no way endangered. But long ago I learned 
that the quickest way to get what I want 
is not to want it, outwardly, at least. So I 
assumed an indifference that was not very 
real. The result was that next morning every 
one was in a hurry to get me started, — 
Clyde greasing the little old wagon that looks 
like a twin to Cora Belle's, and Mrs. Loud- 
erer, who thinks no baby can be properly 
brought up without goose-grease, busy greas- 
ing the baby "so as he shall not some cold 
take yet." Mrs. Louderer had ridden over, 
so her saddle was laid in the wagon and her 
pony, Bismarck, was hitched in with Chub, 
the laziest horse in all Wyoming. I knew 
Clyde could manage very well while I should 
be gone, and there was n't a worry to inter- 
fere with the pleasure of my outing. 
159 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

We jogged along right merrily, Mrs. 
Louderer devoting her entire attention to 
trying to make Chub pull even with Bis- 
marck, Jerrine and myself enjoying the ever- 
changing views. I wish I could lay it all 
before you. Summer was departing with 
reluctant feet, unafraid of Winter's messen- 
gers, the chill winds. That day was especially 
beautiful. The gleaming snow peaks and 
heavy forest south and at our back; west, 
north, and east, long, broken lines of the dis- 
tant mountains with their blue haze. Pilot 
Butte to the north, one hundred miles away, 
stood out clear and distinct as though we 
could drive there in an hour or two. The 
dull, neutral-colored " Bad Land " hills nearer 
us are interesting only because we know 
they are full of the fossil remains of strange 
creatures long since extinct. 

For a distance our way lay up Henry's 

Fork valley ; prosperous little ranches dotted 

the view, ripening grain rustled pleasantly in 

the warm morning sunshine, and closely cut 

160 



THE HORSE-THIEVES 

alfalfa fields made bright spots of emerald 
against the dun landscape. The quaking 
aspens were just beginning to turn yellow; 
everywhere purple asters were a blaze of 
glory except where the rabbit-bush grew in 
clumps, waving its feathery plumes of gold. 
Over it all the sky was so deeply blue, with 
little, airy, white clouds drifting lazily along. 
Even 7 breeze brought scents of cedar, pine, 
and sage. At this point the road wound 
along the base of cedar hills; some magpies 
were holding a noisy caucus among the trees, 
a pair of bluebirds twittered excitedly upon 
a fence, and high overhead a great black 
eagle soared. All was so peaceful that horse- 
thieves and desperate men seemed too remote 
to think about. 

Presently we crossed the creek and headed 
our course due north toward the desert and 
the buttes. I saw that we were not going 
right to reach Mrs. Louderer's ranch, so I 
asked where we were supposed to be going. 
"We iss going to the mouth of Dry Creek by, 
161 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

where it goes Black's Fork into. Dere mine 
punchers holdts five huntert steers. We shall 
de camp visit and you shall come back wiser 
as when you went." 

Well, we both came away wiser. I had 
thought we were going only to the Louderer 
ranch, so I put up no lunch, and there was 
nothing for the horses either. But it was too 
beautiful a time to let such things annoy us. 
Anyway, we expected to reach camp just 
after noon, so a little delay about dinner 
did n't seem so bad. We had entered the 
desert by noon; the warm, red sands fell 
away from the wheels with soft, hissing 
sounds. Occasionally a little horned toad 
sped panting along before us, suddenly dart- 
ing aside to watch with bright, cunning eyes 
as we passed. Some one had placed a. buf- 
falo's skull beside a big bunch of sage and on 
the sage a splendid pair of elk's antlers. We 
saw many such scattered over the sands, 
grim reminders of a past forever gone. 

About three o'clock we reached our desti- 
162 



THE HORSE-THIEVES 

nation, but no camp was there. We were 
more disappointed than I can tell you, but 
Mrs. Louderer merely went down to the 
river, a few yards away, and cut an armful of 
willow sticks wherewith to coax Chub to a 
little brisker pace, and then we took the trail 
of the departed mess-wagon. Shortly, we 
topped a low range of hills, and beyond, in a 
cuplike valley, was the herd of sleek beauties 
feeding contentedly on the lush green grass. 
I suppose it sounds odd to hear desert and 
river in the same breath, but within a few 
feet of the river the desert begins, where 
nothing grows but sage and grease wood. In 
oasis-like spots will be found plenty of grass 
where the soil is nearer the surface and where 
sub-irrigation keeps the roots watered. In 
one of these spots the herd was being held. 
When the grass became short they would be 
moved to another such place. 

It required, altogether, fifteen men to take 
care of the herd, because many of the cattle 
had been bought in different places, some in 
163 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

Utah, and these were always trying to run 
away and work back toward home, so they 
required constant herding. Soon we caught 
the glimmer of white canvas, and knew it 
was the cover of the mess- wagon, so we 
headed that way. 

The camp was quite near the river so as 
to be handy to water and to have the willows 
for wood. Not a soul was at camp. The 
fire was out, and even the ashes had blown 
away. The mess-box was locked and Mrs. 
Louderer's loud calls brought only echoes 
from the high rock walls across the river. 
However, there was nothing to do but to 
make the best of it, so we tethered the horses 
and went down to the river to relieve our- 
selves of the dust that seemed determined to 
unite with the dust that we were made of. 
Mrs. Louderer declared she was "so mat as 
nodings and would fire dot Herman so soon 
as she could see him alreaty." 

Presently we saw the most grotesque fig- 
ure approaching camp. It was Herman, the 
164 



THE HORSE-THIEVES 

fat cook, on Hunks, a gaunt, ugly old horse, 
whose days of usefulness under the saddle 
were past and who had degenerated into a 
workhorse. The disgrace of it seemed to 
be driving him into a decline, but he stum- 
bled along bravely under his heavy load. A 
string of a dozen sage chickens swung on 
one side, and across the saddle in front of 
Herman lay a young antelope. A volley of 
German abuse was hurled at poor Herman, 
wound up in as plain American as Mrs. 
Louderer could speak: "And who iss going 
to pay de game warden de fine of dot ante- 
lope what you haf shot? And how iss it that 
we haf come de camp by und so starved as 
we iss hungry, and no cook und no food? Iss 
dat for why you iss paid?" 

Herman was some Dutch himself, however. 
"How iss it," he demanded, "dat you haf 
not so much sense as you haf tongue? How 
haf you lived so long as always in de West 
und don't know enough to hunt a bean-hole 
when you reach your own camp. Hey?" 
165 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

Mrs. Louderer was very properly subdued 
and I delighted when he removed the stones 
from where the fire had been, exposing a pit 
from which, with a pair of pot-hooks, he 
lifted pots and ovens of the most delicious 
meat, beans, and potatoes. From the mess- 
box he brought bread and apricot pie. From 
a near-by spring he brought us a bright, new 
pail full of clear, sparkling water, but Mrs. 
Louderer insisted upon tea and in a short 
time he had it ready for us. The tarpaulin 
was spread on the ground for us to eat from, 
and soon we were showing an astonished 
cook just how much food two women and a 
child could get away with. I ate a good deal 
of ashes with my roast beef and we all ate 
more or less sand, but fastidiousness about 
food is a good thing to get rid of when you 
come West to camp. 

When the regular supper-time arrived the 

punchers began to gather in, and the "boss," 

who had been to town about some business, 

came in and brought back the news of the 

1 66 



THE HORSE-THIEVES 

man-hunt. The punchers sat about the fire, 
eating hungrily from their tin plates and 
eagerly listening to the recital. Two of the 
boys were tenderfeet: one from Tennessee 
called " Daisy Belle," because he whistled 
that tune so much and because he had 
nose-bleed so much, — could n't even ride a 
broncho but his nose would bleed for hours 
afterwards; and the other, "N'Yawk," so 
called from his native State. N'Yawk was a 
great boaster; said he wasn't afraid of no 
durned outlaw, — said his father had waded 
in bloody gore up to his neck and that he 
was a chip off the old block, — rather hoped 
the chase would come our way so he could 
try his marksmanship. 

The air began to grow chill and the sky 
was becoming overcast. Preparations for the 
night busied everybody. Fresh ponies were 
being saddled for the night relief, the hard- 
ridden, tired ones that had been used that 
day being turned loose to graze. Some poles 
were set up and a tarpaulin arranged for 
167 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

Mrs. Louderer and me to sleep under. Mrs. 
Louderer and Jerrine lay down on some 
blankets and I unrolled some more, which I 
was glad to notice were clean, for Baby and 
myself. I can't remember ever being more 
tired and sleepy, but I could n't go to sleep. 
I could hear the boss giving orders in quick, 
decisive tones. I could hear the punchers 
discussing the raid, finally each of them tell- 
ing exploits of his favorite heroes of out- 
lawry. I could hear Herman, busy among 
his pots and pans. Then he mounted the 
tongue of the mess-wagon and called out, 
"We haf for breakfast cackle-berries, first 
vot iss come iss served, und those vot iss 
sleep late gets nodings." 

I had never before heard of cackle-berries 
and asked sleepy Mrs. Louderer what they 
were. "Vait until morning and you shall 
see," was all the information that I received. 

Soon a gentle, drizzling rain began, and 
the punchers hurriedly made their beds, as 
they did so twitting N'Yawk about making 
1 68 



THE HORSE-THIEVES 

his between our tent and the fire. "You're 
dead right, pard," I heard one of them say, 
"to make your bed there, fer if them outlaws 
comes this way they'll think you air one of 
the women and they won't shoot you. Just 
us men air in danger." 

"Confound your fool tongues, how they 
goin' to know there's any women here? I 
tell you, fellers, my old man waded in bloody 
gore up to his neck and I 'm just like him." 

They kept up this friendly parleying until 
I dozed off to sleep, but I could n't stay 
asleep. I don't think I was afraid, but I cer- 
tainly was nervous. The river was making a 
sad, moaning sound; the rain fell gently, like 
tears. All nature seemed to be mourning 
about something, happened or going to hap- 
pen. Down by the river an owl hooted dis- 
mally. Half a mile away the night-herders 
were riding round and round the herd. One 
of them was singing, — faint but distinct 
came his song: "Bury me not on the lone 
prairie." Over and over again he sang it. 
169 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

After a short interval of silence he began 
again. This time it was, "I'm thinking of 
my dear old mother, ten thousand miles 
away." 

Two punchers stirred uneasily and began 
talking. " Blast that Tex," I heard one of 
them say, "he certainly has it bad to-night. 
What the deuce makes him sing so much? I 
feel like bawling like a kid ; I wish he 'd shut 
up." "He's homesick; I guess we all are too, 
but they ain't no use staying awake and let- 
ting it soak in. Shake the water off the tarp, 
you air lettin' water catch on your side an' 
it's running into my ear." 

That is the last I heard for a long time. I 
must have slept. I remember that the baby 
stirred and I spoke to him. It seemed to me 
that something struck against the guy-rope 
that held our tarpaulin taut, but I was n't 
sure. I was in that dozy state, half asleep, 
when nothing is quite clear. It seemed as 
though I had been listening to the tramp of 
feet for hours and that a whole army must 
170 



THE HORSE-THIEVES 

be filing past, when I was brought suddenly 
into keen consciousness by a loud voice 
demanding, "Hello! Whose outfit is this?" 
"This is the 7 Up, — Louderer's," the boss 
called back; "what's wanted?" "Is that 
you, Mat? This is Ward's posse. We been 
after Meeks and Murdock all night. It's so 
durned dark we can't see, but we got to keep 
going; their horses are about played. We 
changed at Hadley's, but we ain't had a bite 
to eat and we got to search your camp." 
"Sure thing," the boss answered, "roll off 
and take a look. Hi, there, you Herm, get 
out of there and fix these fellers something 
to eat." 

We were surrounded. I could hear the 
clanking of spurs and the sound of the wet, 
tired horses shaking themselves and rattling 
the saddles on every side. "Who's in the 
wickiup?" I heard the sheriff ask. "Some 
women and kids, — Mrs. Louderer and a 
friend." 

In an incredibly short time Herman had a 
171 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

fire coaxed into a blaze and Mat Watson and 
the sheriff went from bed to bed with a lan- 
tern. They searched the mess-wagon, even, 
although Herman had been sleeping there. 
The sheriff unceremoniously flung out the 
wood and kindling the cook had stored there. 
He threw back the flap of our tent and flashed 
the lantern about. He could see plainly 
enough that there were but the four of us, 
but I wondered how they saw outside where 
the rain made it worse, the lantern was so 
dirty. ' ' Yes, ' ' I heard the sheriff say, ' ' we ' ve 
been pushing them hard. They're headed 
north, evidently intend to hit the railroad 
but they '11 never make it. Every ford on the 
river is guarded except right along here, and 
there 's five parties ranging on the other side. 
My party 's split, — a bunch has gone on to 
the bridge. If they find anything they 're to 
fire a volley. Same with us. I knew they 
could n't cross the river nowhere but at the 
bridge or here." 
The men had gathered about the fire and 
172 



THE HORSE-THIEVES 

were gulping hot coffee and cold beef and 
bread. The rain ran off their slickers in little 
rivulets. I was sorry the fire was not better, 
because some of the men had on only ordi- 
nary coats, and the drizzling rain seemed 
determined that the fire should not blaze 
high. 

Before they had finished eating we heard 
a shot, followed by a regular medley of dull 
booms. The men were in their saddles and 
gone in less time than it takes to tell it. The 
firing had ceased save for a few sharp reports 
from the revolvers, like a coyote's spiteful 
snapping. The pounding of the horse's hoofs 
grew fainter, and soon all was still. I kept 
my ears strained for the slightest sound. The 
cook and the boss, the only men up, hurried 
back to bed. Watson had risen so hurriedly 
that he had not been careful about his 
"tarp" and water had run into his bed. But 
that would n't disconcert anybody but a 
tenderfoot. I kept waiting in tense silence 
to hear them come back with dead or 
173 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

wounded, but there was not a sound. The 
rain had stopped. Mrs. Louderer struck a 
match and said it was three o'clock. Soon she 
was asleep. Through a rift in the clouds a 
star peeped out. I could smell the wet sage 
and the sand. A little breeze came by, 
bringing Tex's song once more: — 

"Oh, it matters not, so I've been told, 
How the body lies when the heart grows cold." 

Oh, dear! the world seemed so full of sad- 
ness. I kissed my baby's little downy head 
and went to sleep. 

It seems that cowboys are rather sleepy- 
headed in the morning and it is a part of the 
cook's job to get them up. The next I knew, 
Herman had a tin pan on which he was beat- 
ing a vigorous tattoo, all the time hollering, 
"We haf cackle-berries und antelope steak 
for breakfast." The baby was startled by the 
noise, so I attended to him and then dressed 
myself for breakfast. I went down to the 
little spring to wash my face. The morn- 
ing was lowering and gray, but a wind had 
174 



THE HORSE-THIEVES 

sprung up and the clouds were parting. There 
are times when anticipation is a great deal 
better than realization. Never having seen 
a cackle-berry, my imagination pictured 
them as some very luscious wild fruit, and 
I was so afraid none would be left that I 
could n't wait until the men should eat and 
be gone. So I surprised them by joining the 
very earliest about the fire. Herman began 
serving breakfast. I held out my tin plate 
and received some of the steak, an egg, and 
two delicious biscuits. We had our coffee in 
big enameled cups, without sugar or cream, 
but it was piping hot and so good. I had 
finished my egg and steak and so I told 
Herman I was ready for my cackle-berries. 

"Listen to her now, will you?" he asked. 
And then indignantly, "How many cackle- 
berries does you want? You haf had so many 
as I haf cooked for you." "Why, Herman, I 
have n't had a single berry," I said. Then 
such a roar of laughter. Herman gazed at 
me in astonishment, and Mr. Watson gently 
175 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

explained to me that eggs and cackle-berries 
were one and the same. 

N'Yawk was not yet up, so Herman 
walked over to his bed, kicked him a few 
times, and told him he would scald him if he 
did n't turn out. It was quite light by then. 
N'Yawk joined us in a few minutes. "What 
the deuce was you fellers kicking up such 
a rumpus fer last night? " he asked. "You 
blamed blockhead, don't you know?" the 
boss answered. "Why, the sheriff searched 
this camp last night. They had a battle 
down at the bridge afterwards and either 
they are all killed or else no one is hurt. 
They would have been here otherwise. Ward 
took a shot at them once yesterday, but I 
guess he did n't hit ; the men got away, any- 
way. And durn your sleepy head! you just 
lay there and snored. Well, I '11 be danged!" 
Words failed him, his wonder and disgust 
were so great. 

N'Yawk turned to get his breakfast. His 
light shirt was blood-stained in the back, — 
176 



THE HORSE-THIEVES 

seemed to be soaked. "What 's the matter 
with your shirt, it's soaked with blood?" 
some one asked. "Then that durned Daisy 
Belle has been crawling in with me, that's 
all," he said. "Blame his bleeding snoot. 
I'll punch it and give it something to bleed 
for." 

Then Mr. Watson said, "Daisy ain't been 
in all night. He took Jesse's place when he 
went to town after supper." That started 
an inquiry and search which speedily showed 
that some one with a bleeding wound had 
gotten in with N'Yawk. It also developed 
that Mr. Watson's splendid horse and saddle 
were gone, the rope that the horse had been 
picketed with lying just as it had been cut 
from his neck. 

Now all was bustle and excitement. It was 
plainly evident that one of the outlaws had 
lain hidden on N' Yawk's bed while the sheriff 
was there, and that afterwards he had sad- 
dled the horse and made his escape. His own 
horse was found in the willows, the saddle 
177 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

cut loose and the bridle off, but the poor, 
jaded thing had never moved. By sunup the 
search-party returned, all too worn-out with 
twenty-four hours in the saddle to continue 
the hunt. They wer even too worn-out to 
eat, but flung themselves down for a few 
hours' rest. The chase was hopeless anyway, 
for the search-party had gone north in the 
night. The wounded outlaw had doubtless 
heard the sheriff talking and, the coast being 
clear to the southward, had got the fresh 
horse and was by that time probably safe in 
the heavy forests and mountains of Utah. 
His getting in with N'Yawk had been a 
daring ruse, but a successful one. Where his 
partner was, no one could guess. But by 
that time all the camp excepting Herman 
and Mrs. Louderer were so panicky that we 
could n't have made a rational suggestion. 

N'Yawk, white around his mouth, ap- 
proached Mrs. Louderer. "I want to quit," 
he said. "Well," she said, calmly sipping her 
coffee, "you haf done it." "I'm sick," he 
178 



THE HORSE-THIEVES 

stammered. "I know you iss," she said, "I 
haf before now seen men get sick when they 
iss scared to death." "My old daddy — "he 
began. " Yes, I know, he waded the creek vone 
time und you has hac^cold feet effer since." 

Poor fellow, I felt sorry for him. I had cold 
feet myself just then, and I was powerfully 
anxious to warm them by my own fire where 
a pair of calm blue eyes would reassure me. 

I did n't get to see the branding that was 
to have taken place on the range that day. 
The boss insisted on taking the trail of 
his valued horse. He was very angry. He 
thought there was a traitor among the posse. 
Who started the firing at the bridge no one 
knew, and Watson said openly that it was 
done to get the sheriff away from camp. 

My own home looked mighty good to me 
when we drove up that evening. I don't 
want any more wild life on the range, — not 
for a while, anyway. 

Your ex-Washlady, 
Elinore Rupert Stewart. 



XVII 

AT GAVOTTE'S CAMP 

November 16, 19 12. 

My dear Friend, — 

At last I can write you as I want to. I am 
afraid you think I am going to wait until the 
"bairns" are grown up before writing to my 
friends, but indeed I shall not. I fully intend 
to "gather roses while I may." Since God 
has given me two blessings, children and 
friends, I shall enjoy them both as I go 
along. 

I must tell you why I have not written as I 
should have done. All summer long my eyes 
were so strained and painful that I had to let 
all reading and writing go. And I have suf- 
fered terribly with my back. But now I am 
able to be about again, do most of my own 
work, and my eyes are much better. So now 
I shall not treat you so badly again. If you 
180 




GAVOTTE 



AT GAVOTTE'S CAMP 

could only know how kind every one is to me, 
you would know that even ill health has its 
compensations out here. Dear Mrs. Lou- 
derer, with her goose-grease, her bread, and 
her delicious "kuchens." Mrs. O'Shaugh- 
nessy, with her cheery ways, her tireless 
friendship, and willing, capable hands. 
Gavotte even, with his tidbits of game and 
fish. Dear little Cora Belle came often to see 
me, sometimes bringing me a little of Grand- 
pa's latest cure, which I received on faith, 
for, of course, I could not really swallow any 
of it. Zebbie's nephew, Parker Carter, came 
out, spent the summer with him, and they 
have now gone back to Yell County, leaving 
Gavotte in charge again. 

Gavotte had a most interesting and pros- 
perous summer. He was commissioned by a 
wealthy Easterner to procure some fossils. 
I had had such a confined summer that Clyde 
took me out to Gavotte's camp as soon as I 
was able to sit up and be driven. We found 
him away over in the bad lands camped in a 
181 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

fine little grove. He is a charming man to 
visit at any time, and we found him in a par- 
ticularly happy mood. He had just begun to 
quarry a gigantic find ; he had piles of speci- 
mens ; he had packed and shipped some rare 
specimens of fossil plants, but his "beeg 
find" came later and he was jubilant. To 
dig fossils successfully requires great care 
and knowledge, but it is a work in which 
Gavotte excels. He is a splendid cook. I 
almost believe he could make a Johnny Reb 
like codfish, and that night we had a delicious 
supper and all the time listening to a learned 
discourse about prehistoric things. I enjoyed 
the meal and I enjoyed the talk, but I could 
not sleep peacefully for being chased in 
my dreams by pterodactyls, dinosaurs, and 
iguanodons, besides a great many horrible 
creatures whose names I have forgotten. Of 
course, when the ground begins to freeze and 
snow comes, fossil-mining is done for until 
summer comes, so Gavotte tends the critters 
and traps this winter. I shall not get to go 
182 



AT GAVOTTE'S CAMP 

to the mountains this winter. The babies are 
too small, but there is always some happy 
and interesting thing happening, and I shall 
have two pleasures each time, my own enjoy- 
ment, and getting to tell you of them. 



XVIII 

THE HOMESTEADER'S MARRIAGE AND A 
LITTLE FUNERAL 

December 2, 191 2. 

Dear Mrs. Coney, — 

Every time I get a new letter from you I 
get a new inspiration, and I am always glad 
to hear from you. 

I have often wished I might tell you all 
about my Clyde, but have not because of 
two things. One is I could not even begin 
without telling you what a good man he is, 
and I did n't want you to think I could do 
nothing but brag. The other reason is the 
haste I married in. I am ashamed of that. 
I am afraid you will think me a Becky Sharp 
of a person. But although I married in 
haste, I have no cause to repent. That is 
very fortunate because I have never had one 
bit of leisure to repent in. So I am lucky all 
184 



THE HOMESTEADER'S MARRIAGE 

around. The engagement was powerfully 
short because both agreed that the trend of 
events and ranch work seemed to require 
that we be married first and do our " spark- 
ing" afterward. You see, we had to chink 
in the wedding between times, that is, be- 
tween planting the oats and other work that 
must be done early or not at all. In Wyo- 
ming ranchers can scarcely take time even 
to be married in the springtime. That hav- 
ing been settled, the license was sent for by 
mail, and as soon as it came Mr. Stewart 
saddled Chub and went down to the house of 
Mr. Pearson, the justice of the peace and a 
friend of long standing. I had never met any 
of the family and naturally rather dreaded 
to have them come, but Mr. Stewart was 
firm in wanting to be married at home, so 
he told Mr. Pearson he wanted him and his 
family to come up the following Wednesday 
and serve papers on the "wooman i' the 
hoose." They were astonished, of course, 
but being such good friends they promised 

185 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

him all the assistance they could render. 
They are quite the dearest, most interesting 
family! I have since learned to love them 
as my own. 

Well, there was no time to make wedding 
clothes, so I had to "do up" what I did have. 
Is n't it queer how sometimes, do what you 
can, work will keep getting in the way until 
you can't get anything done? That is how 
it was with me those few days before the 
wedding; so much so that when Wednesday 
dawned everything was topsy-turvy and I 
had a very strong desire to run away. But 
I always did hate a " piker," so I stood pat. 
Well, I had most of the dinner cooked, but it 
kept me hustling to get the house into any- 
thing like decent order before the old dog 
barked, and I knew my moments of liberty 
were limited. It was blowing a perfect hur- 
ricane and snowing like midwinter. I had 
bought a beautiful pair of shoes to wear on 
that day, but my vanity had squeezed my 
feet a little, so while I was so busy at work I 
186 



THE HOMESTEADER'S MARRIAGE 

had kept on a worn old pair, intending to put 
on the new ones later ; but when the Pearsons 
drove up all I thought about was getting 
them into the house where there was fire, so I 
forgot all about the old shoes and the apron 
I wore. 

I had only been here six weeks then, and 
was a stranger. That is why I had no one to 
help me and was so confused and hurried. 
As soon as the newcomers were warm, Mr. 
Stewart told me I had better come over by 
him and stand up. It was a large room I had 
to cross, and how I did it before all those 
strange eyes I never knew. All I can remem- 
ber very distinctly is hearing Mr. Stewart 
saying, "I will," and myself chiming in that 
I would, too. Happening to glance down, I 
saw that I had forgotten to take off my apron 
or my old shoes, but just then Mr. Pearson 
pronounced us man and wife, and as I had 
dinner to serve right away I had no time to 
worry over my odd toilet. Anyway the shoes 
were comfortable and the apron white, so I 

187 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

suppose it could have been worse ; and I don't 
think it has ever made any difference with 
the Pearsons, for I number them all among 
my most esteemed friends. 

It is customary here for newlyweds to give 
a dance and supper at the hall, but as I was 
a stranger I preferred not to, and so it was a 
long time before I became acquainted with 
all my neighbors. I had not thought I should 
ever marry again. Jerrine was always such 
a dear little pal, and I wanted to just knock 
about foot-loose and free to see life as a 
gypsy sees it. I had planned to see the Cliff- 
Dwellers' home; to live right there until I 
caught the spirit of the surroundings enough 
to live over their lives in imagination any- 
way. I had planned to see the old missions 
and to go to Alaska; to hunt in Canada. I 
even dreamed of Honolulu. Life stretched 
out before me one long, happy jaunt. I aimed 
to see all the world I could, but to travel un- 
known bypaths to do it. But first I wanted 
to try homesteading. 

188 



THE HOMESTEADERS MARRIAGE 

But for my having the grippe, I should 
never have come to Wyoming. Mrs. Seroise, 
who was a nurse at the institution for nurses 
in Denver while I was housekeeper there, had 
worked one summer at Saratoga, Wyoming. 
It was she who told me of the pine forests. 
I had never seen a pine until I came to 
Colorado; so the idea of a home among the 
pines fascinated me. At that time I was 
hoping to pass the Civil-Service examination, 
with no very definite idea as to what I would 
do, but just to be improving my time and 
opportunity. I never went to a public school 
a day in my life. In my childhood days there 
was no such thing in the Indian Territory 
part of Oklahoma where we lived, so I have 
had to try hard to keep learning. Before the 
time came for the examination I was so dis- 
couraged because of the grippe that nothing 
but the mountains, the pines, and the clean, 
fresh air seemed worth while; so it all came 
about just as I have written you. 

So you see I was very deceitful. Do you 
189 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

remember, I wrote you of a little baby boy 
dying? That was my own little Jamie, our 
first little son. For a long time my heart was 
crushed. He was such a sweet, beautiful boy. 
I wanted him so much. He died of erysipelas. 
I held him in my arms till the last agony was 
over. Then I dressed the beautiful little 
body for the grave. Clyde is a carpenter; so 
I wanted him to make the little coffin. He 
did it every bit, and I lined and padded it, 
trimmed and covered it. Not that we could 
n't afford to buy one or that our neighbors 
were not all that was kind and willing; but 
because it was a sad pleasure to do every- 
thing for our little first-born ourselves. 

As there had been no physician to help, so 
there was no minister to comfort, and I could 
not bear to let our baby leave the world 
without leaving any message to a community 
that sadly needed it. His little message to us 
had been love, so I selected a chapter from 
John and we had a funeral service, at which 
all our neighbors for thirty miles around 
190 



THE HOMESTEADER'S MARRIAGE 

were present. So you see, our union is sealed 
by love and welded by a great sorrow. 

Little Jamie was the first little Stewart. 
God has given me two more precious little 
sons. The old sorrow is not so keen now. I 
can bear to tell you about it, but I never 
could before. When you think of me, you 
must think of me as one who is truly happy. 
It is true, I want a great many things I have 
n't got, but I don't want them enough to be 
discontented and not enjoy the many bless- 
ings that are mine. I have my home among 
the blue mountains, my healthy, well-formed 
children, my clean, honest husband, my kind, 
gentle milk cows, my garden which I make 
myself. I have loads and loads of flowers 
which I tend myself. There are lots of chick- 
ens, turkeys, and pigs which are my own 
special care. I have some slow old gentle 
horses and an old wagon. I can load up the 
kiddies and go where I please any time. I 
have the best, kindest neighbors and I have 
my dear absent friends. Do you wonder I am 
191 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

so happy? When I think of it all, I wonder 
how I can crowd all my joy into one short 
life. I don't want you to think for one 
moment that you are bothering me when I 
write you. It is a real pleasure to do so. 
You're always so good to let me tell you 
everything. I am only afraid of trying your 
patience too far. Even in this long letter I 
can't tell you all I want to; so I shall write 
you again soon. Jerrine will write too. Just 
now she has very sore fingers. She has been 
picking gooseberries, and they have been 
pretty severe on her brown little paws. 
With much love to you, I am 
"Honest and truly" yours, 

Elinore Rupert Stewart. 



XIX 

THE ADVENTURE OF THE CHRISTMAS TREE 

January 6, 19 13. 

My dear Friend, — 

I have put off writing you and thanking 
you for your thought for us until now so that 
I could tell you of our very happy Christmas 
and our deer hunt all at once. 

To begin with, Mr. Stewart and Junior 
have gone to Boulder to spend the winter. 
Clyde wanted his mother to have a chance 
to enjoy our boy, so, as he had to go, he took 
Junior with him. Then those of my dear 
neighbors nearest my heart decided to pre- 
vent a lonely Christmas for me, so on Decem- 
ber 2 1st came Mrs. Louderer, laden with an 
immense plum pudding and a big "wurst" 
and a little later came Mrs. O'Shaughnessy 
on her frisky pony, Chief, her scarlet sweater 
making a bright bit of color against our snow- 
193 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

wrapped horizon. Her face and ways are 
just as bright and cheery as can be. When 
she saw Mrs. Louderer's pudding and sau- 
sage she said she had brought nothing be- 
cause she had come to get something to eat 
herself, "and," she continued, " it is a private 
opinion of mine that my neighbors are so 
glad to see me that they are glad to feed me." 
Now would n't that little speech have made 
her welcome anywhere? 

Well, we were hilariously planning what 
Mrs. O'Shaughnessy called a "widdy" 
Christmas and getting supper, when a great 
stamping-off of snow proclaimed a new- 
comer. It was Gavotte, and we were power- 
fully glad to see him because the hired man 
was going to a dance and we knew Gavotte 
would contrive some unusual amusement. 
He had heard that Clyde was going to have 
a deer-drive, and did n't know that he had 
gone, so he had come down to join the hunt 
just for the fun, and was very much disap- 
pointed to find there was going to be no hunt. 
194 



CHRISTMAS TREE ADVENTURE 

After supper, however, his good humor re- 
turned and he told us story after story of big 
hunts he had had in Canada. He worked up 
his own enthusiasm as well as ours, and at 
last proposed that we have a drive of our own 
for a Christmas "joy." He said he would 
take a station and do the shooting if one of 
us would do the driving. So right now I 
reckon I had better tell you how it is done. 

There are many little parks in the moun- 
tains where the deer can feed, although now 
most places are so deep in snow that they 
can't walk in it. For that reason they have 
trails to water and to the different feeding- 
grounds, and they can't get through the snow 
except along these paths. You see how easy 
it would be for a man hidden on the trail to 
get one of the beautiful creatures if some one 
coming from another direction startled them 
so that they came along that particular path. 

So they made their plans. Mrs. O'Shaugh- 
nessy elected herself driver. Two miles away 
is a huge mountain called Phillipeco, and 
195 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

deer were said to be plentiful up there. At 
one time there had been a sawmill on the 
mountain, and there were a number of de- 
serted cabins in which we could make our- 
selves comfortable. So it was planned that 
we go up the next morning, stay all night, 
have the hunt the following morning, and 
then come home with our game. 

Well, we were all astir early the next 
morning and soon grain, bedding, and chuck- 
box were in the wagon. Then Mrs. Loud- 
erer, the kinder, and myself piled in; Mrs. 
O'Shaughnessy bestrode Chief, Gavotte 
stalked on ahead to pick our way, and we 
were off. 

It was a long, tedious climb, and I wished 
over and over that I had stayed at home; 
but it was altogether on Baby's account. I 
was so afraid that he would suffer, but he 
kept warm as toast. The day was beauti- 
ful, and the views many times repaid us for 
any hardship we had suffered. It was three 
o'clock before we reached the old mill camp. 
196 



CHRISTMAS TREE ADVENTURE 

Soon we had a roaring fire, and Gavotte 
made the horses comfortable in one of the 
cabins. They were bedded in soft, dry saw- 
dust, and were quite as well off as if they had 
been in their own stalls. Then some rough 
planks were laid on blocks, and we had our 
first meal since breakfast. We called it sup- 
per, and we had potatoes roasted in the 
embers, Mrs. Louderer's wurst, which she 
had been calmly carrying around on her arm 
like a hoop and which was delicious with the 
bread that Gavotte toasted on long sticks; 
we had steaming coffee, and we were all 
happy; even Baby clapped his hands and 
crowed at the unusual sight of an open fire. 
After supper Gavotte took a little stroll and 
returned with a couple of grouse for our 
breakfast. After dark we sat around the fire 
eating peanuts and listening to Gavotte and 
Mrs. Louderer telling stories of their differ- 
ent great forests. But soon Gavotte took 
his big sleeping-bag and retired to another 
cabin, warning us that we must be up early. 
197 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

Our improvised beds were the most comfort- 
able things ; I love the flicker of an open fire, 
the smell of the pines, the pure, sweet air, 
and I went to sleep thinking how blest I was 
to be able to enjoy the things I love most. 

It seemed only a short time until some one 
knocked on our door and we were all wide 
awake in a minute. The fire had burned 
down and only a soft, indistinct glow from 
the embers lighted the room, while through a 
hole in the roof I could see a star glimmering 
frostily. It was Gavotte at the door and he 
called through a crack saying he had been 
hearing queer noises for an hour and he was 
going to investigate. He had called us so 
that we need not be alarmed should we hear 
the noise and not find him. We scrambled 
into our clothes quickly and ran outdoors to 
listen. 

I can never describe to you the weird 

beauty of a moonlight night among the pines 

when the snow is sparkling and gleaming, 

the deep silence unbroken even by the snap- 

198 



CHRISTMAS TREE ADVENTURE 

ping of a twig. We stood shivering and 
straining our ears and were about to go back 
to bed when we heard faintly a long-drawn 
wail as if all the suffering and sorrow on 
earth were bound up in that one sound. We 
couldn't tell which way it came from; it 
seemed to vibrate through the air and chill 
our hearts. I had heard that panthers cried 
that way, but Gavotte said it was not a 
panther. He said the engine and saws had 
been moved from where we were to another 
spring across the canon a mile away, where 
timber for sawing was more plentiful, but he 
supposed every one had left the mill when 
the water froze so they could n't saw. He 
added that some one must have remained 
and was, perhaps, in need of help, and if we 
were not afraid he would leave us and go see 
what was wrong. 

We went in, made up the fire, and sat in 

silence, wondering what we should see or 

hear next. Once or twice that agonized cry 

came shivering through the cold moonlight. 

199 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

After an age, we heard Gavotte crunching 
through the snow, whistling cheerily to re- 
assure us. He had crossed the cation to the 
new mill camp, where he had found two 
women, loggers' wives, and some children, 
One of the women, he said, was "so vei 
seek," 't was she who was wailing so, and it 
was the kind of "seek" where we could be 
of every help and comfort. 

Mrs. Louderer stayed and took care of the 
children while Mrs. O'Shaughnessy and I 
followed after Gavotte, panting and stum- 
bling, through the snow. Gavotte said he 
suspected they were short of "needfuls," so 
he had filled his pockets with coffee and 
sugar, took in a bottle some of the milk I 
brought for Baby, and his own flask of whis- 
key, without which he never travels. 

At last, after what seemed to me hours of 
scrambling through the snow, through deep- 
est gloom where pines were thickest, and out 
again into patches of white moonlight, we 
reached the ugly clearing where the new 
200 



CHRISTMAS TREE ADVENTURE 

camp stood. Gavotte escorted us to the door 
and then returned to our camp. Entering, 
we saw the poor, little soon-to-be mother 
huddled on her poor bed, while an older 
woman stood near warning her that the oil 
would soon be all gone and they would be in 
darkness. She told us that the sick one had 
been in pain all the day before and much 
of the night, and that she herself was worn 
completely out. So Mrs. O'Shaughnessy sent 
her to bed and we took charge. 

Secretly, I felt it all to be a big nuisance 
to be dragged out from my warm, comfort- 
able bed to traipse through the snow at that 
time of the night. But the moment poor little 
Molly spoke I was glad I was living, because 
she was a poor little Southern girl whose hus- 
band is a Mormon. He had been sent on a 
mission to Alabama, and the poor girl had 
fallen in love with his handsome face and 
knew nothing of Mormonism, so she had run 
away with him. She thought it would be so 
grand to live in the glorious West with so 
201 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

splendid a man as she believed her husband 
to be. But now she believed she was going 
to die and she was glad of it because she 
could not return to her "folks," and she said 
she knew her husband was dead because he 
and the other woman's husband, both of 
whom had intended to stay there all winter 
and cut logs, had gone two weeks before to 
get their summer's wages and buy supplies. 
Neither man had come back and there was 
not a horse or any other way to get out of the 
mountains to hunt them, so they believed 
the men to be frozen somewhere on the road. 
Rather a dismal prospect, was n't it? Molly 
was just longing for some little familiar 
thing, so I was glad I have not yet gotten rid 
of my Southern way of talking. No West- 
erner can ever understand a Southerner's 
need of sympathy, and, however kind their 
hearts, they are unable to give it. Only a 
Southerner can understand how dear are our 
peculiar words and phrases, and poor little 
Molly took new courage when she found I 
202 



CHRISTMAS TREE ADVENTURE 

knew what she meant when she said she was 
just "honin' " after a friendly voice. 

Well, soon we had the water hot and had 
filled some bottles and placed them around 
our patient, and after a couple of hours the 
tiny little stranger came into the world. It 
had been necessary to have a great fire in 
order to have light, so as soon as we got 
Baby dressed I opened the door a little to 
cool the room and Molly saw the morning 
star twinkling merrily. "Oh," she said, 
"that is what I will call my little girlie, — 
Star, dear little Star." 

It is strange, is n't it? how our spirits will 
revive after some great ordeal. Molly had 
been sure she was going to die and saw 
nothing to live for; now that she had had a 
cup of hot milk and held her red little baby 
close, she was just as happy and hopeful as 
if she had never left her best friends and 
home to follow the uncertain fortunes of 
young Will Crosby. So she and I talked of 
ash-hoppers, smoke-houses, cotton-patches, 
203 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

goobers, poke-greens, and shoats, until she 
fell asleep. 

Soon day was abroad, and so we went out- 
doors for a fresh breath. The other woman 
came out just then to ask after Molly. She 
invited us into her cabin, and, oh, the little 
Mormons were everywhere; poor, half-clad 
little things! Some sour-dough biscuit and 
a can of condensed milk was everything they 
had to eat. The mother explained to us that 
their "men" had gone to get things for them, 
but had not come back, so she guessed they 
had got drunk and were likely in jail. She 
told it in a very unconcerned manner. Poor 
thing! Years of such experience had taught 
her that blessed are they who expect nothing, 
for they shall not be disappointed. She said 
that if Molly had not been sick she would 
have walked down out of the mountains and 
got help. 

Just then two shots rang out in quick suc- 
cession, and soon Gavotte came staggering 
along with a deer across his shoulders. That 
204 



CHRISTMAS TREE ADVENTURE 

he left for the family. From our camp he had 
brought some bacon and butter for Molly, 
and, poor though it may seem, it was a treat 
for her. Leaving the woman to dress the 
venison with her oldest boy's aid, we put out 
across the canon for our own breakfast. Be- 
side our much-beaten trail hung the second 
venison, and when we reached our camp and 
had our own delicious breakfast of grouse, 
bread, butter, and coffee, Gavotte took 
Chub and went for our venison. In a short 
time we were rolling homeward. Of course it 
did n't take us nearly so long to get home 
because it was downhill and the road was 
clearly marked, so in a couple of hours we 
were home. 

Gavotte knew the two loggers were in 
Green River and were then at work storing 
ice for the railroad, but he had not known 
that their wives were left as they were. The 
men actually had got drunk, lost their 
money, and were then trying to replace it. 
After we debated a bit we decided we could 
205 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

not enjoy Christmas with those people in 
want up there in the cold. Then we got busy. 
It is sixty miles to town, although our near- 
est point to the railroad is but forty, so you 
see it was impossible to get to town to get 
anything. You should have seen us! Every 
old garment that had ever been left by men 
who have worked here was hauled out, and 
Mrs. O'Shaughnessy's deft fingers soon had 
a pile of garments cut. We kept the machine 
humming until far into the night, as long as 
we could keep our eyes open. 

All next day we sewed as hard as we could, 
and Gavotte cooked as hard as he could. We 
had intended to have a tree for Jerrine, so we 
had a box of candles and a box of Christmas 
snow. Gavotte asked for all the bright paper 
we could find. We had lots of it, and I think 
you would be surprised at the possibilities 
of a little waste paper. He made gorgeous 
birds, butterflies, and flowers out of paper 
that once wrapped parcels. Then he asked 
us for some silk thread, but I had none, so he 
206 



CHRISTMAS TREE ADVENTURE 

told us to comb our hair and give him the 
combings. We did, and with a drop of muci- 
lage he would fasten a hair to a bird's back 
and then hold it up by the hair. At a few 
feet's distance it looked exactly as though 
the bird was flying. I was glad I had a big 
stone jar full of fondant, because we had a 
lot of fun shaping and coloring candies. We 
offered a prize for the best representation of 
a "nigger," and we had two dozen chocolate- 
covered things that might have been any- 
thing from a monkey to a mouse. Mrs. 
Louderer cut up her big plum pudding and 
put it into a dozen small bags. These 
Gavotte carefully covered with green paper. 
Then we tore up the holly wreath that Aunt 
Mary sent me, and put a sprig in the top of 
each green bag of pudding. I never had so 
much fun in my life as I had preparing for 
that Christmas. 

At ten o'clock, the morning of the 24th, 
we were again on our way up the mountain- 
side. We took shovels so we could clear a 
207 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

road if need be. We had dinner at the old 
camp, and then Gavotte hunted us a way 
out to the new, and we smuggled our things 
into Molly's cabin so the children should 
have a real surprise. Poor, hopeless little 
things! Theirs was, indeed, a dull outlook. 

Gavotte busied himself in preparing one 
of the empty cabins for us and in making 
the horses comfortable. He cut some pine 
boughs to do that with, and so they paid no 
attention when he cut a small tree.- In the 
mean time we had cleared everything from 
Molly's cabin but her bed ; we wanted her to 
see the fun. The children were sent to the 
spring to water the horses and they were all 
allowed to ride, so that took them out of the 
way while Gavotte nailed the tree into a box 
he had filled with dirt to hold it steady. 

There were four women of us, and Gavotte, 
so it was only the work of a few moments 
to get the tree ready, and it was the most 
beautiful one I ever saw. Your largest bell, 
dear Mrs. Coney, dangled from the topmost 
208 



CHRISTMAS TREE ADVENTURE 

branch. Gavotte had attached a long, stout 
wire to your Santa Claus, so he was able to 
make him dance frantically without seeming 
to do so. The hairs that held the birds and 
butterflies could not be seen, and the effect 
was beautiful. We had a bucket of apples 
rubbed bright, and these we fastened to the 
tree just as they grew on their own branches. 
The puddings looked pretty, too, and we had 
done up the parcels that held the clothes as 
attractively as we could . We saved the candy 
and the peanuts to put in their little stockings. 
As soon as it was dark we lighted the 
candles and then their mother called the 
children. Oh, if you could have seen them! 
It was the very first Christmas tree they had 
ever seen and they did n't know what to do. 
The very first present Gavotte handed out 
was a pair of trousers for eight-years-old 
Brig, but he just stood and stared at the tree 
until his brother next in size, with an eye to 
the main chance, got behind him and pushed 
him forward, all the time exclaiming, "Go 
209 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

on, can't you! They ain't doin' nothin* to 
you, they's just doin' somethin' for you." 
Still Brig would not put out his hand. He 
just shook his tousled sandy head and said he 
wanted a bird. So the fun kept up for an hour. 
Santa had for Molly a package of oatmeal, a 
pound of butter, a Mason jar of cream, and a 
dozen eggs, so that she could have suitable 
food to eat until something could be done. 

After the presents had all been distributed 
we put the phonograph on a box and had 
a dandy concert. We played "There were 
Shepherds," "Ave Maria," and "Sweet 
Christmas Bells." Only we older people 
cared for those, so then we had "Arrah 
Wanna," "Silver Bells," "Rainbow," "Red 
Wing," and such songs. How delighted they 
were ! Our concert lasted two hours, and by 
that time the little fellows were so sleepy that 
the excitement no longer affected them and 
they were put to bed, but they hung up their 
stockings first, and even Molly hung hers up 
too. We filled them with peanuts and candy, 
210 



CHRISTMAS TREE ADVENTURE 

putting the lion's share of "niggers" into 
Molly's stocking. 

Next morning the happiness broke out in 
new spots. The children were all clean and 
warm, though J am afraid I can't brag on the 
fit of all the clothes. But the pride of the 
wearers did away with the necessity of a fit. 
The mother was radiantly thankful for a 
warm petticoat ; that it was made of a blanket 
too small for a bed did n't bother her, and 
the stripes were around the bottom anyway. 
Molly openly rejoiced in her new gown, and 
that it was made of ugly gray outing flannel 
she did n't know nor care. Baby Star Crosby 
looked perfectly sweet in her little new 
clothes, and her little gown had blue sleeves 
and they thought a white skirt only added to 
its beauty. And so it was about everything. 
We all got so much out of so little. I will 
never again allow even the smallest thing 
to go to waste. We were every one just as 
happy as we could be, almost as delighted as 
Molly was over her "niggers," and there was 
211 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

very little given that had not been thrown 
away or was not just odds and ends. 

There was never anything more true than 
that it is more blessed to give than to receive. 
We certainly had a delicious dinner too, and 
we let Molly have all she wanted that we 
dared allow her to eat. The roast venison 
was so good that we were tempted to let her 
taste it, but we thought better of that. As 
soon as dinner was over we packed our be- 
longings and betook ourselves homeward. 

It was just dusk when we reached home. 
Away off on a bare hill a wolf barked. A big 
owl hooted lonesomely among the pines, and 
soon a pack of yelping coyotes went scam- 
pering across the frozen waste. 

It was not the Christmas I had in mind 
when I sent the card, but it was a dandy one, 
just the same. 

With best wishes for you for a happy, 
happy New Year, 

Sincerely your friend, 

Elinore Rupert Stewart. 



XX 

THE JOYS OF HOMESTEADING 

January 23, 1913. 

Dear Mrs. Coney, — 

I am afraid all my friends think I am very 
forgetful and that you think I am ungrateful 
as well, but I am going to plead not guilty. 
Right after Christmas Mr. Stewart came 
down with la grippe and was so miserable 
that it kept me busy trying to relieve him. 
Out here where we can get no physician we 
have to dope ourselves, so that I had to 
be housekeeper, nurse, doctor, and general 
overseer. That explains my long silence. 

And now I want to thank you for your 
kind thought in prolonging our Christmas. 
The magazines were much appreciated. They 
relieved some weary night-watches, and the 
box did Jerrine more good than the medicine 
I was having to give her for la grippe. She 
213 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

was content to stay in bed and enjoy the 
contents of her box. 

When I read of the hard times among the 
Denver poor, I feel like urging them every 
one to get out and file on land. I am very 
enthusiastic about women homesteading. It 
really requires less strength and labor to 
raise plenty to satisfy a large family than it 
does to go out to wash, with the added satis- 
faction of knowing that their job will not be 
lost to them if they care to keep it. Even if 
improving the place does go slowly, it is that 
much done to stay done. Whatever is raised 
is the homesteader's own, and there is no 
house-rent to pay. This year Jerrine cut and 
dropped enough potatoes to raise a ton of 
fine potatoes. She wanted to try, so we let 
her, and you will remember that she is but 
six years old. We had a man to break the 
ground and cover the potatoes for her and 
the man irrigated them once. That was all 
that was done until digging time, when they 
were ploughed out and Jerrine picked them 
214 



THE JOYS OF HOMESTEADING 

up. Any woman strong enough to go out by 
the day could have done every bit of the 
work and put in two or three times that 
much, and it would have been so much more 
pleasant than to work so hard in the city 
and then be on starvation rations in the 
winter. 

To me, homesteading is the solution of all 
poverty's problems, but I realize that tem- 
perament has much to do with success in 
any undertaking, and persons afraid of coy- 
otes and work and loneliness had better 
let ranching alone. At the same time, any 
woman who can stand her own company, 
can see the beauty of the sunset, loves grow- 
ing things, and is willing to put in as much 
time at careful labor as she does over the 
washtub, will certainly succeed; will have 
independence, plenty to eat all the time, and 
a home of her own in the end. 

Experimenting need cost the homesteader 
no more than the work, because by applying 
to the Department of Agriculture at Wash- 
215 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

ington he can get enough of any seed and as 
many kinds as he wants to make a thorough 
trial, and it does n't even cost postage. Also 
one can always get bulletins from there and 
from the Experiment Station of one's own 
State concerning any problem or as many 
problems as may come up. I would not, for 
anything, allow Mr. Stewart to do anything 
toward improving my place, for I want the 
fun and the experience myself. And I want to 
be able to speak from experience when I tell 
others what they can do. Theories are very 
beautiful, but facts are what must be had, 
and what I intend to give some time. 

Here I am boring you to death with things 
that cannot interest you ! You 'd think I 
wanted you to homestead, would n't you? 
But I am only thinking of the troops of tired, 
worried women, sometimes even cold and 
hungry, scared to death of losing their places 
to work, who could have plenty to eat, who 
could have good fires by gathering the wood, 
and comfortable homes of their own, if they 
216 



THE JOYS OF HOMESTEADING 

but had the courage and determination to 
get them. 

I must stop right now before you get so 
tired you will not answer. With much love 
to you from Jerrine and myself, I am 
Yours affectionately, 

Elinore Rupert Stewart. 



XXI 

A LETTER OF JERRINE'S 

February 26, 19 13. 

Dear Mrs. Coney, — 

I think you will excuse my mama for not 
writing to thank you for black Beauty when 
I tell you why. I wanted to thank you my- 
self, and I wanted to hear it read first so I 
could very trully thank. Mama always said 
horses do not talk, but now she knows they 
do since she read the Dear little book. I have 
known it along time. My own pony told me 
the story is very true. Many times I have 
see men treat horses very badly, but our 
Clyde dont, and wont let a workman stay if 
He hurts stock. I am very glad. 

Mr Edding came past one day with a load 

of hay. he had too much load to pull up hill 

and there was much ice and snow but he 

think he can make them go up so he fighted 

218 



A LETTER OF JERRINE'S 

and sweared but they could not get up. 
Mama tried to lend him some horse to help 
but he was angry and was termined to make 
his own pull it but at last he had to take off 
some hay I wish he may read my Black 
Beauty. 

Our Clyde is still away. We were going to 
visit Stella. Mama was driving, the horses 
raned away. We goed very fast as the wind. 
I almost fall out Mama hanged on to the 
lines, if she let go we may all be kill. At last 
she raned them into a fence, they stop and a 
man ran to help so we are well but mama 
hands and arms are still so sore she cant 
write you yet. My brother Calvin is very 
sweet. God had to give him to us because he 
squealed so much he sturbed the angels. We 
are not angels so he Dont sturb us. I thank 
you for my good little book, and I love you 
for it too. 

very speakfully, 

Jerrine Rupert. 



XXII 

THE EFFICIENT MRS. O'SHAUGHNESSY 

May 5, 1913. 

Dear Mrs. Coney, — 

Your letter of April 25 certainly was a sur- 
prise, but a very welcome one. We are so 
rushed with spring work that we don't even 
go to the office for the mail, and I owe you 
letters and thanks. I keep promising myself 
the pleasure of writing you and keep putting 
it off until I can have more leisure, but that 
time never gets here. I am so glad when I 
can bring a little of this big, clean, beautiful 
outdoors into your apartment for you to en- 
joy, and I can think of nothing that would 
give me more happiness than to bring the 
West and its people to others who could not 
otherwise enjoy them. If I could only take 
them from whatever is worrying them and 
give them this bracing mountain air, glimpses 
220 



EFFICIENT MRS. O'SHAUGHNESSY 

of the scenery, a smell of the pines and the 
sage, — if I could only make them feel the free, 
ready sympathy and hospitality of these fron- 
tier people, I am sure their worries would di- 
minish and my happiness would be complete. 
Little Star Crosby is growing to be the 
sweetest little kid. Her mother tells me that 
she is going "back yan" when she gets a 
"little mo' richer." I am afraid you give me 
too much credit for being of help to poor little 
Molly. It was n't that I am so helpful, but 
that "fools rush in where angels fear to 
tread." It was Mrs. O'Shaughnessy who was 
the real help. She is a woman of great cour- 
age and decision and of splendid sense and 
judgment. A few days ago a man she had 
working for her got his finger-nail mashed off 
and neglected to care for it. Mrs. O'Shaugh- 
nessy examined it and found that gangrene 
had set in. She did n't tell him, but made 
various preparations and then told him she 
had heard that if there was danger of blood- 
poisoning it would show if the finger was 
221 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

placed on wood and the patient looked 
toward the sun. She said the person who 
looked at the finger could then see if there 
was any poison. So the man placed his finger 
on the chopping-block and before he could 
bat his eye she had chopped off the black, 
swollen finger. It was so sudden and unex- 
pected that there seemed to be no pain. Then 
Mrs. O'Shaughnessy showed him the green 
streak already starting up his arm. The man 
seemed dazed and she was afraid of shock, so 
she gave him a dose of morphine and whiskey. 
Then with a quick stroke of a razor she laid 
open the green streak and immersed the 
whole arm in a strong solution of bichloride 
of mercury for twenty minutes. She then 
dressed the wound with absorbent cotton 
saturated with olive oil and carbolic acid, 
bundled her patient into a buggy, and drove 
forty-five miles that night to get him to a doc- 
tor. The doctor told us that only her quick 
action and knowledge of what to do saved 
the man's life. 

222 



EFFICIENT MRS. O'SHAUGHNESSY 

I was surprised that you have had a letter 
from Jerrine. I knew she was writing to you 
that day, but I was feeling very stiff and sore 
from the runaway and had lain down. She 
kept asking me how to spell words until I 
told her I was too tired and wanted to sleep. 
While I was asleep the man came for the 
mail, so she sent her letter. I have your ad- 
dress on the back of the writing-pad, so she 
knew she had it right, but I suspect that was 
all she had right. She has written you many 
letters but I have never allowed her to send 
them because she misspells, but that time she 
stole a march on me. The books you sent 
her, " Black Beauty" and " Alice in Wonder- 
land," have given her more pleasure than 
anything she has ever had. She just loves 
them and is saving them, she says, for her 
own little girls. She is very confident that 
the stork will one day visit her and leave her 
a " very many " little girls. They are to be of 
assorted sizes. She says she can't see why I 
order all my babies little and red and squally, 
223 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

— says she thinks God had just as soon let 
me have larger ones, especially as I get so 
many from him. 

One day before long I will get busy and 
write you of a visit I shall make to a Mormon 
bishops household. Polygamy is still prac- 
ticed. 

Very truly your friend, 

Elinore Rupert Stewart. 



XXIII 

HOW IT HAPPENED 

June 12, 1913. 

Dear Mrs. Coney, — 

Your letter of the 8th to hand, and in order 
to catch you before you leave I '11 answer at 
once and not wait for time. I always think I 
shall do better with more time, but with three 
"bairns," garden, chickens, cows, and house- 
work I don't seem to find much time for 
anything. Now for the first question. My 
maiden name was Pruitt, so when I am put- 
ting on airs I sign Elinore Pruitt Stewart. I 
don't think I have ever written anything that 
Clyde would object to, so he can still stay on 
the pedestal Scotch custom puts him upon and 
remain "the Stewart." Indeed, I don't think 
you are too inquisitive, and I am glad to 
tell you how I happened to meet the "gude 
mon." 

225 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

It all happened because I had a stitch in 
my side. When I was housekeeper at the 
Nursery, I also had to attend to the furnace, 
and, strange but true, the furnace was built 
across the large basement from where the 
coal was thrown in, so I had to tote the coal 
over, and my modus operandi was to fill a tub 
with coal and then drag it across to the hun- 
gry furnace. Well, one day I felt the catch 

and got no better fast. After Dr. F 

punched and prodded, she said, "Why, you 
have the grippe." Rev. Father Corrigan had 
been preparing me to take the Civil-Service 
examination, and that afternoon a lesson 
was due, so I went over to let him see how 
little I knew. I was in pain and was so blue 
that I could hardly speak without weeping, so 
I told the Reverend Father how tired I was of 
the rattle and bang, of the glare and the soot, 
the smells and the hurry. I told him what I 
longed for was the sweet, free open, and that 
I would like to homestead. That was Satur- 
day evening. He advised me to go straight 
226 



HOW IT HAPPENED 

uptown and put an "ad" in the paper, so as 
to get it into the Sunday paper. I did so, and 
because I wanted as much rest and quiet as 
possible I took Jerrine and went uptown and 
got a nice quiet room. 

On the following Wednesday I received a 
letter from Clyde, who was in Boulder visit- 
ing his mother. He was leaving for Wyoming 
the following Saturday and wanted an inter- 
view, if his proposition suited me. I was so 
glad of his offer, but at the same time I could 
n't know what kind of person he was; so, to 
lessen any risk, I asked him to come to the 
Sunshine Mission, where Miss Ryan was 
going to help me "size him up." He did n't 
know that part of it, of course, but he stood 
inspection admirably. I was under the im- 
pression he had a son, but he had n't, and 
he and his mother were the very last of their 
race. I am as proud and happy to-day as I 
was the day I became his wife. I wish you 
knew him, but I suspect I had better not 
brag too much, lest you think me not quite 
227 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

sincere. He expected to visit you while he 
was in Boulder. He went to the Stock Show, 
but was with a party, so he planned to go 
again. But before he could, the man he left 
here, and whom I dismissed for drunkenness, 
went to Boulder and told him I was alone, so 
the foolish thing hurried home to keep me 
from too hard work. So that is why he was 
disappointed. 

Junior can talk quite well, and even Calvin 
jabbers. The children are all well, and Jer- 
rine writes a little every day to you. I have 
been preparing a set of indoor outings for 
invalids. Your telling me your invalid friends 
enjoyed the letters suggested the idea. I 
thought to write of little outings I take might 
amuse them, but wanted to write just as I 
took the little trips, while the impressions 
were fresh ; that is why I have not sent them 
before now. Is it too late? Shall I send them 
to you? Now this is really not a letter; it is 
just a reply. I must say good-night; it is 
twelve o'clock, and I am so sleepy. 
228 



HOW IT HAPPENED 

I do hope you will have a very happy sum- 
mer, and that you will share your happiness 
with me in occasional letters. 
With much love, 

Elinore Stewart. 

In writing I forgot to say that the Rever- 
end Father thought it a good plan to get a 
position as housekeeper for some rancher 
who would advise me about land and water 
rights. By keeping house, he pointed out, I 
could have a home and a living and at the 
same time see what kind of a homestead I 
could get. 



XXIV 

A LITTLE ROMANCE 

October 8, 1913. 

My dear Friend, — 

I have had such a happy little peep into 
another's romance that I think I should be 
cheating you if I did n't tell you. Help in 
this country is extremely hard to get ; so when 
I received a letter from one Aurelia Tim- 
mons, saying she wanted a job, — three dol- 
lars a week and not to be called "Relie," — 
my joy could hardly be described. I could 
hardly wait until morning to start for Bridger 
Bench, where Aurelia held forth. I was up 
before the lark next morning. It is more 
miles to the Bridger Bench country than the 
"gude mon" wants his horses driven in a 
day; so permission was only given after I 
promised to curb my impatience and stay 
overnight with Mrs. Louderer. Under ordi- 
230 



A LITTLE ROMANCE 

nary circumstances that would have been a 
pleasure, but I knew at least a dozen women 
who would any of them seize on to Aurelia 
and wrest her from me, so it was only after it 
seemed I would not get to go at all that I 
promised. 

At length the wagon was greased, some 
oats put in, a substantial lunch and the kid- 
dies loaded in, and I started on my way. 
Perhaps it was the prospect of getting help 
that gilded everything with a new beauty. 
The great mountains were so majestic, and 
the day so young that I knew the night wind 
was still murmuring among the pines far up 
on the mountain-sides. The larks were trying 
to outdo each other and the robins were so 
saucy that I could almost have flicked them 
with the willow I was using as a whip. The 
rabbit-bush made golden patches every- 
where, while purple asters and great pink 
thistles lent their charm. Going in that direc- 
tion, our way lay between a mountain stream 
and the foothills. There are many ranches 
231 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

along the stream, and as we were out so early, 
we could see the blue smoke curling from 
each house we passed. We knew that venison 
steak, hot biscuit, and odorous coffee would 
soon grace their tables. We had not had the 
venison, for the "gude raon" holds to the 
letter of the law which protects deer here, 
but we begrudged no one anything ; we were 
having exactly what we wanted. We jogged 
along happily, if slowly, for I must explain 
to you that Chub is quite the laziest horse 
in the State, and Bill, his partner, is so old he 
stands like a bulldog. He is splay-footed and 
sway-backed, but he is a beloved member of 
our family, so I vented my spite on Chub, and 
the willow descended periodically across his 
black back, I guess as much from force of 
habit as anything else. But his hide is thick 
and his memory short, so we broke no record 
that day. 

We drove on through the fresh beauty of 
the morning, and when the sun was straight 
overhead we came to the last good water we 
232 



A LITTLE ROMANCE 

could expect before we reached Mrs. Loud- 
erer's ; so we stopped for lunch. In Wyoming 
quantity has a great deal more to do with 
satisfaction than does quality; after half a 
day's drive you won't care so much what it is 
you're going to eat as you will that there is 
enough of it. That is a lesson I learned long 
ago; so our picnic was real. There were no 
ants in the pie, but that is accounted for by 
there being no pie. Our road had crossed the 
creek, and we were resting in the shade of a 
quaking-asp grove, high up on the sides of 
the Bad Land hills. For miles far below lay 
the valley through which we had come. 

Farther on, the mountains with their dense 
forests were all wrapped in the blue haze of 
the melancholy days. Soon we quitted our en- 
chanted grove whose quivering, golden leaves 
kept whispering secrets to us. 

About three o'clock we came down out of 

the hills on to the bench on which the Loud- 

erer ranch is situated. Perhaps I should ex-' 

plain that this country is a series of huge ter- 

233 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

races, each terrace called a bench. I had just 
turned into the lane that leads to the house 
when a horseman came cantering toward me. 
"Hello!" he saluted, as he drew up beside 
the wagon. "Goin' up to the house? Better 
not. Mrs. Louderer is not at home, and 
there's no one there but Greasy Pete. He's 
on a tear; been drunk two days, I'm tellin' 
you. He's full of mischief. 'T ain't safe 
around old Greasy. I advise you to go some- 
'eres else." "Well," I asked, "where can I 
go?" "Danged if I know," he replied, " 'les- 
sen it 's to Kate Higbee's. She lives about 
six or seven miles west. She ain't been here 
long, but I guess you can't miss her place. 
Just jog along due west till you get to Red 
Gulch ravine, then turn north for a couple 
of miles. You '11 see her cabin up against a 
cedar ridge. Well, so 'long!" He dug his 
spurs into his cayuse's side and rode on. 

Tears of vexation so blinded me that I 
could scarcely see to turn the team, but omi- 
nous sounds and wild yells kept coming from 
234 



A LITTLE ROMANCE 

the house, so I made what haste I could to 
get away from such an unpleasant neighbor- 
hood. Soon my spirits began to rise. Kate 
Higbee, I reflected, was likely to prove to be 
an interesting person. All Westerners are 
likable, with the possible exception of Greasy 
Pete. I rather looked forward to my visit. 
But my guide had failed to mention the 
buttes; so, although I jogged as west as I 
knew how, I found I had to wind around a 
butte about ever so often. I crossed a ravine 
with equal frequency, and all looked alike. 
It is not surprising that soon I could not 
guess where I was. We could turn back and 
retrace our tracks, but actual danger lay 
there; so it seemed wiser to push on, as there 
was, perhaps, no greater danger than discom- 
fort ahead. The sun hung like a big red ball 
ready to drop into the hazy distance when 
we came clear of the buttes and down on to 
a broad plateau, on which grass grew plen- 
tifully. That encouraged me because the 
horses need not suffer, and if I could make 
235 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

the scanty remnant of our lunch do for the 
children's supper and breakfast, we could 
camp in comfort, for we had blankets. But 
we must find water. I stood up in the wagon 
and, shading my eyes against the sun's level 
light, was looking out in the most promising 
directions when I noticed that the plateau's 
farther side was bounded by a cedar ridge, 
and, better yet, a smoke was slowly rising, 
column-like, against the dun prospect. That, 
I reasoned, must be my destination. Even 
the horses livened their paces, and in a little 
while we were there. 

But no house greeted our eyes, — just a big 
camp-fire. A lean old man sat on a log-end 
and surveyed us indifferently. On the ground 
lay a large canvas-covered pack, apparently 
unopened. An old saddle lay up against a 
cedar-trunk. Two old horses grazed near. 
I was powerfully disappointed. You know 
misery loves company ; so I ventured to say, 
"Good-evening." He didn't stir, but he 
grunted, " Hello." I knew then that he was 
236 



A LITTLE ROMANCE 

not a fossil, and hope began to stir in my 
heart. Soon he asked, "Are you goin , some- 
wheres or jist travelin'?" I told him I had 
started somewhere, but reckoned I must be 
traveling, as I had not gotten there. Then he 
said, "My name is Hiram K. Hull. Whose 
woman are you?" I confessed to belonging 
to the house of Stewart. "Which Stewart?" 
he persisted,— "C. R., S. W., or H. C?" 
Again I owned up truthfully. "Well," he 
continued, "what does he mean by letting 
you gad about in such onconsequential 
style?" 

Sometimes a woman gets too angry to talk. 
Don't you believe that? No? Well, they do, 
I assure you, for I was then. He seemed 
grown to the log. As he had made no move 
to help me, without answering him I clam- 
bered out of the wagon and began to take 
the horses loose. "Ho!" he said; "are you 
goin' to camp here?" "Yes, I am," I 
snapped. "Have you any objections?" 
"Oh, no, none that won't keep," he assured 
237 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

me. It has always been a theory of mine that 
when we become sorry for ourselves we make 
our misfortunes harder to bear, because we 
lose courage and can't think without bias; 
so I cast about me for something to be glad 
about, and the comfort that at least we were 
safer with a simpleton than near a drunken 
Mexican came to me ; so I began to view the 
situation with a little more tolerance. 

After attending to the horses I began to 
make the children comfortable. My unwill- 
ing host sat silently on his log, drawing long 
and hard at his stubby old pipe. How very 
little there was left of our lunch! Just for 
meanness I asked him to share with us, and, 
if you'll believe me, he did. He gravely ate 
bread-rims and scraps of meat until there was 
not one bit left for even the baby's breakfast. 
Then he drew the back of his hand across his 
mouth and remarked, "I should think when 
you go off on a ja'nt like this you'd have a 
well-filled mess- box." Again speech failed 
me. 

238 



A LITTLE ROMANCE 

Among some dwarf willows not far away 
a spring bubbled. I took the kiddies there to 
prepare them for rest. When I returned to 
the fire, what a transformation! The pack 
was unrolled and blankets were spread, the 
fire had been drawn aside, disclosing a bean- 
hole, out of which Hiram K. was lifting an 
oven. He took off the lid. Two of the plump- 
est, brownest ducks that ever tempted any 
one were fairly swimming in gravy. Two 
loaves of what he called punk, with a box of 
crackers, lay on a newspaper. He mimicked 
me exactly when he asked me to take supper 
with him, and I tried hard to imitate him in 
promptitude when I accepted. The babies 
had some of the crackers wet with hot water 
and a little of the gravy. We soon had the 
rest looking scarce. The big white stars were 
beginning to twinkle before we were through, 
but the camp-fire was bright, and we all felt 
better-natured. Men are not alone in having 
a way to their heart through their stomach. 

I made our bed beneath the wagon, and 
239 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

Hiram K. fixed his canvas around, so we 
should be sheltered. I felt so much better 
and thought so much better of him that I 
could laugh and chat gayly. " Now, tell me," 
he asked, as he fastened the canvas to a wheel, 
4 'did n't you think I was an old devil at 
first?" "Yes, I did," I answered. "Well," 
he said, " I am; so you guessed right," After 
I put the children to bed, we sat by the fire 
and talked awhile. I told him how I hap- 
pened to be gadding about in "such oncon- 
sequential" style, and he told me stories of 
when the country was new and fit to live in. 
"Why," he said, in a burst of enthusiasm, 
"time was once when you went to bed you 
were not sure whether you 'd get up alive and 
with your scalp on or not, the Injins were 
that thick. And then there was white men a 
durned sight worse; they were likely to plug 
you full of lead just to see you kick. But 
now," he continued mournfully, "a bear or an 
antelope, maybe an elk, is about all the ex- 
citement we can expect. Them good old days 
240 



A LITTLE ROMANCE 

are gone." I am mighty glad of it ; a drunken 
Pete is bad enough for me. 

I was tired, so soon I went to bed. I could 
hear him as he cut cedar boughs for his own 
fireside bed, and as he rattled around among 
his pots and pans. Did you ever eat pork and 
beans heated in a frying-pan on a camp-fire 
for breakfast? Then if you have not, there is 
one delight left you. But you must be away 
out in Wyoming, with the morning sun just 
gilding the distant peaks, and your pork and 
beans must be out of a can, heated in a dis- 
reputable old frying-pan, served with coffee 
boiled in a battered old pail and drunk from a 
tomato-can. You'll never want iced melons, 
powdered sugar, and fruit, or sixty-nine vari- 
eties of breakfast food, if once you sit Trilby- 
wise on Wyoming sand and eat the kind of 
breakfast we had that day. 

After breakfast Hiram K. Hull hitched our 

horses to the wagon, got his own horses 

ready, and then said, " 'T ain't more'n half a 

mile straight out between them two hills to 

241 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

the stage-road, but I guess I had better go 
and show you exactly, or you will be millin' 
around here all day, tryin' to find it." In a 
very few minutes we were on the road, and 
our odd host turned to go. "S'long!" he 
called. "Tell Stewart you seen old Hikum. 
Him and me's shared tarps many's the 
nights. We used to be punchers together, 
— old Clyde and me. Tell him old Hikum 
ain't forgot him." So saying, he rode away 
into the golden morning, and we drove on- 
ward, too. 

We stopped for lunch only a few minutes 
that day, and we reached the Bridger com- 
munity about two that afternoon. The much 
sought Aurelia had accepted the position of 
lifetime housekeeper for a sheep-herder who 
had no house to keep, so I had to cast about 
for whatever comfort I could. The roadhouse 
is presided over by a very able body of the 
clan of Ferguson. I had never met her, but 
formalities count for very little in the West. 
She was in her kitchen, having more trouble, 
242 



A LITTLE ROMANCE 

she said, than a hen whose ducklings were in 
swimming. I asked her if she could accom- 
modate the children and myself. "Yes," she 
said, "I can give you a bed and grub, but I 
ain't got no time to ask you nothing. I ain't 
got no time to inquire who you are nor where 
you come from. There's one room left. You 
can have that, but you '11 have to look out for 
yourself and young 'uns. ' ' I felt equal to that ; 
so I went out to have the horses cared for and 
to unload the kiddies. 

Leaning against the wagon was a man who 
made annual rounds of all the homes in our 
community each summer; his sole object was 
to see what kind of flowers we succeeded 
with. Every woman in our neighborhood 
knows Bishey Bennet, but I don't think 
many would have recognized him that after- 
noon. I had never seen him dressed in any- 
thing but blue denim overalls and overshirt 
to match, but to-day he proudly displayed 
what he said was his dove-colored suit. The 
style must have been one of years ago, for I 
243 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

cannot remember seeing trousers quite so 
skimpy. He wore top-boots, but as a con- 
cession to fashion he wore the boot-tops un- 
der the trouser-legs, and as the trousers were 
about as narrow as a sheath skirt, they kept 
slipping up and gave the appearance of be- 
ing at least six inches too short. Although 
Bishey is tall and thin, his coat was two sizes 
too small, his shirt was of soft tan material, 
and he wore a blue tie. But whatever may 
have been amiss with his costume was easily 
forgotten when one saw his radiant face. He 
grasped my hand and wrung it as if it was a 
chicken's neck. 

"What in the world is the matter with 
you?" I asked, as I rubbed my abused paw. 
"Just you come here and I'll tell you," he 
answered. There was no one to hear but the 
kiddies, but I went around the corner of the 
house with him. He put his hand up to his 
mouth and whispered that "Miss Em'ly" 
was coming, would be there on the afternoon 
stage. I had never heard of "Miss Em'ly," 
244 



A LITTLE ROMANCE 

and said so. "Well, just you go in and set on 
the sofy and soon's I see your horses took 
care of I '11 come in and tell you." I went into 
my own room, and after I rustled some water 
I made myself and the kiddies a little more 
presentable. Then we went into the sitting- 
room and sat on the "sofy." Presently 
Bishey sauntered in, trying to look uncon- 
cerned and at ease, but he was so fidgety he 
could n't sit down. But he told his story, and 
a dear one it is. 

It seems that back in New York State he 
and Miss Em'ly were "young uns" together. 
When they were older they planned to marry, 
but neither wanted to settle down to the 
humdrumness that they had always known. 
Both dreamed of the golden West ; so Bishey 
had gone to blaze the trail, and "Miss Em'ly" 
was to follow. First one duty and then an- 
other had held her, until twenty-five years 
had slipped by and they had not seen each 
other, but now she was coming, that very 
day. They would be married that evening, 
245 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

and I at once appointed myself matron of 
honor and was plumb glad there was no other 
candidate. 

I at once took the decorations in hand. 
Bishey, Jerrine, and myself went out and 
gathered armfuls of asters and goldenrod-like 
rabbit-brush. From the dump-pile we sorted 
cans and pails that would hold water, and 
we made the sitting-room a perfect bower of 
purple and gold beauty. I put on my last 
clean shirt-waist and the children's last clean 
dresses. Then, as there seemed nothing more 
to do, Bishey suggested that we walk up the 
road and meet the stage; but the day had 
been warm, and I remembered my own ap- 
pearance when I had come over that same 
road the first time. I knew that journey was 
trying on any one's appearance at any time 
of the year, and after twenty-five years to be 
thrust into view covered with alkali dust and 
with one's hat on awry would be too much 
for feminine patience; so I pointed out to 
Bishey that he 'd better clear out and let Miss 
246 



A LITTLE ROMANCE 

Em'ly rest a bit before he showed up. At 
last he reluctantly agreed. 

I went out to the kitchen to find what 
could be expected in the way of hot water for 
Miss Em'ly when she should come. I found I 
could have all I wanted if I heated it myself. 
Mrs. Ferguson could not be bothered about 
it, because a water company had met there 
to vote on new canals, the sheep-men were 
holding a convention, there was a more than 
usual run of transients besides the regular 
boarders, and supper was ordered for the 
whole push. All the help she had was a girl 
she just knew did n't have sense enough to 
pound sand into a rat-hole. Under those 
circumstances I was mighty glad to help. I 
put water on to heat and then forgot Miss 
Em'ly, I was enjoying helping so much, until 
I heard a door slam and saw the stage drive 
away toward the barn. 

I hastened to the room I knew was re- 
served for Miss Em'ly. I rapped on the 
door, but it was only opened a tiny crack. I 
247 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

whispered through that I was a neighbor- 
friend of Mr. Bennett, that I had lots of hot 
water for her and had come to help her if 
I might. Then she opened the door, and I 
entered. I found a very travel-stained little 
woman, down whose dust-covered cheeks 
tears had left their sign. Her prettiness was 
the kind that wins at once and keeps you ever 
after. She was a strange mixture of stiff reti- 
cence and childish trust. She was in such a 
flutter, and she said she was ashamed to own 
it, but she was so hungry she could hardly 
wait. 

After helping her all I could, I ran out to 
see about the wedding supper that was to be 
served before the wedding. I found that no 
special supper had been prepared. It seemed 
to me a shame to thrust them down among 
the water company, the convention, the 
regulars, and the transients, and I mentally 
invited myself to the wedding supper and 
began to plan how we could have a little pri- 
vacy. The carpenters were at work on a long 
248 



A LITTLE ROMANCE 

room off the kitchen that was to be used as 
storeroom and pantry. They had gone for 
the day, and their saw-horses and benches 
were still in the room. It was only the work 
of a moment to sweep the sawdust away. 
There was only one window, but it was large 
and in the west. It took a little time to wash 
that, but it paid to do it. When a few asters 
and sprays of rabbit-brush were placed in 
a broken jar on the window-sill, there was a 
picture worth seeing. Some planks were laid 
on the saw-horses, some papers over them, 
and a clean white cloth over all. I sorted the 
dishes myself ; the prettiest the house afforded 
graced our table. I rubbed the glassware 
until it shone almost as bright as Bishey's 
smile. 

Bishey had come when he could stay away 
no longer; he and Miss Em'ly had had their 
first little talk, so they came out to where I 
was laying the table. They were both beam- 
ing. Miss Em'ly took hold at once to help. 
"Bishey," she commanded, "do you go at 
249 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

once to where my boxes are open, the one 
marked 7; bring me a blue jar you'll find in 
one corner." He went to do her bidding, and 
I to see about the kiddies. When I came 
back with them, there was a small willow 
basket in the center of our improvised table, 
heaped high with pears, apples, and grapes 
all a little the worse for their long journey 
from New York State to Wyoming, but still 
things of beauty and a joy as long as they 
lasted to Wyoming eyes and appetites. We 
had a perfectly roasted leg of lamb; we 
had mint sauce, a pyramid of flaky mashed 
potatoes, a big dish of new peas, a plate of 
sponge-cake I will be long in forgetting; and 
the blue jar was full of grape marmalade. 
Our iced tea was exactly right; the pieces 
of ice clinked pleasantly against our glasses. 
We took our time, and we were all happy. 
We could all see the beautiful sunset, its last 
rays lingering on Miss Em'ly's abundant 
auburn hair to make happy the bride the sun 
shines on. We saw the wonderful colors — 
250 



A LITTLE ROMANCE 

orange, rose, and violet — creep up and fade 
into darker shades, until at last mellow dusk 
filled the room. Then I took the kiddies to 
my room to be put to bed while I should wait 
until time for the ceremony. 

Soon the babies were sleeping, and Jerrine 
and I went into the sitting-room. They were 
sitting on the "sofy." She was telling him 
that the apples had come from the tree they 
had played under, the pears from the tree 
they had set out, the grapes from the vine 
over the well. She told him of things packed 
in her boxes, everything a part of the past 
they both knew. He in turn told her of his 
struggles, his successes, and some of what he 
called his failures. She was a most encourag- 
ing little person, and she'd say to him, " You 
did well, Bishey. I'll say that for you: you 
did well!" Then he told her about the flow- 
ers he had planted for her. I understood then 
why he acted so queerly about my flowers. 
It happens that I am partial to old-time 
favorites, and I grow as many of them as I 
251 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

can get to succeed in this altitude ; so I have 
zinnias, marigolds, hollyhocks, and many 
other dear old flowers that my mother loved. 
Many of them had been the favorites of Miss 
Em'ly's childhood, but Bishey had n't re- 
membered the names; so he had visited us 
all, and when he found a flower he remem- 
bered, he asked the name and how we grew 
it, then he tried it, until at last he had about 
all. Miss Em' ly wiped the tears from her eyes 
as she remarked, "Bishey, you did well; yes, 
you did real well." I thought to myself how 
well we could all do if we were so encour- 
aged. 

At last the white-haired old justice of the 
peace came, and said the words that made 
Emily Wheeler the wife of Abisha Bennet. A 
powerfully noisy but truly friendly crowd 
wished them well. One polite fellow asked 
her where she was from. She told him from 
New York State. "Why," he asked, "do 
New Yorkers always say State ?" " Why, be- 
cause," she answered, — and her eyes were 
252 



A LITTLE ROMANCE 

big with surprise, — "no one would want to 
say they were from New York City." 

It had been a trying day for us, so soon 
Jerrine and I slipped out to our room. Ours 
was the first room off the sitting-room, and a 
long hallway led past our door; a bench sat 
against the wall, and it seemed a favorite 
roosting-place for people with long discus- 
sions. First some fellows were discussing the 
wedding. One thought Bishey " cracked" 
because he had shipped out an old cooking- 
stove, one of the first manufactured, all the 
way from where he came from, instead of 
buying a new one nearer home. They re- 
called instance after instance in which he had 
acted queerly, but to me his behavior was no 
longer a mystery. I know the stove belonged 
somewhere in the past and that his every act 
connected past and future. After they had 
talked themselves tired, two old fellows took 
possession of the bench and added a long dis- 
cussion on how to grow corn to the general 
din. Even sweet corn cannot be successfully 
253 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

grown at this altitude, yet those old men 
argued pro and con till I know their throats 
must have ached. In the sitting-room they 
all talked at once of ditches, water-contracts, 
and sheep. I was so sleepy. I heard a tired 
clock away off somewhere strike two. Some 
sheep-men had the bench and were discussing 
the relative values of different dips. I reckon 
my ego must have gotten tangled with some 
one's else about then, for I found myself 
sitting up in bed foolishly saying, — 

"Two old herders, unshaved and hairy, 
Whose old tongues are never weary, 
Just outside my chamber-door 
Prate of sheep dips for ever more." 

Next morning it was Bishey's cheerful 
voice that started my day. I had hoped to 
be up in time to see them off, but I was n't. 
I heard him call out to Mrs. Bishey, "Miss 
Em'ly, I 've got the boxes all loaded. We can 
start home in ten minutes." I heard her clear 
voice reply, " You 've done well, Bishey. I '11 
be ready by then." I was hurriedly dressing, 
254 



A LITTLE ROMANCE 

hoping yet to see her, when I heard Bishey 
call out to bluff old Colonel Winters, who 
had arrived in the night and had not known 
of the wedding, "Hello! Winters, have you 
met Miss Em'ly? Come over here and meet 
her. I'm a married man now. I married Miss 
Em'ly last night." The colonel could n't 
have known how apt was his reply when he 
said, "I'm glad for you, Bishey. You 've done 
well." I peeked between the curtains, and 
saw Bishey's wagon piled high with boxes, 
with Miss Em'ly, self-possessed and happy, 

greeting the colonel. Soon I heard the rattle 

* 

of wheels, and the dear old happy pair were 
on their way to the cabin home they had 
waited twenty-five years for. Bless the kind 
old hearts of them! I'm sure they've both 
"done well." 



XXV 

AMONG THE MORMONS 

November, 19 13. 

My dear Friend, — 

I have wanted to write you for a long time, 
but have been so busy. I have had some visit- 
ors and have been on a visit ; I think you would 
like to hear about it all, so I will tell you. 

I don't think you would have admired my 
appearance the morning this adventure be- 
gan : I was in the midst of fall house-cleaning 
which included some papering. I am no ex- 
pert at the very best, and papering a wall has 
difficulties peculiar to itself. I was up on a 
barrel trying to get a long, sloppy strip of 
paper to stick to the ceiling instead of to me, 
when in my visitors trooped, and so surprised 
me that I stepped off the barrel and into a 
candy-bucket of paste. At the same time the 
paper came off the ceiling and fell over mine 
256 



AMONG THE MORMONS 

and Mrs. Louderer's head. It was right 
aggravating, I can tell you, but my visitors 
were Mrs. O'Shaughnessy and Mrs. Loud- 
erer, and no one could stay discouraged with 
that pair around. 

After we had scraped as much paste as we 
could off ourselves they explained that they 
had come to take me somewhere. That 
sounded good to me, but I could not see how I 
could get off. However, Mrs. Louderer said 
she had come to keep house and to take care 
of the children while I should go with Mrs. 

O'Shaughnessy to E . We should have 

two days' travel by sled and a few hours 
on a train, then another journey by sled. 
I wanted to go powerfully, but the paste- 
smeared room seemed to forbid. 

As Mrs. Louderer would stay with the 
children, Mr. Stewart thought the trip would 
be good for me. Mrs. O'Shaughnessy knew 

I wanted to visit Bishop D , a shining 

light among the Latter- Day Saints, so she 

promised we should stay overnight at his 

257 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

house. That settled it; so in the cold, blue 
light of the early morning, Mr. Beeler, a new 
neighbor, had driven my friends over in Mrs. 
Louderer's big sled, to which was hitched a 
pair of her great horses and his own team. He 
is a widower and was going out to the road 
for supplies, so it seemed a splendid time to 
make my long-planned visit to the Bishop. 
Deep snow came earlier this year than usual, 
and the sledding and weather both promised 
to be good. It was with many happy antici- 
pations that I snuggled down among the 
blankets and bearskins that morning. 

Mr. Beeler is pleasant company, and Mrs. 
O'Shaughnessy is so jolly and bright, and I 
could leave home without a single misgiving 
with Mrs. Louderer in charge. 

The evening sky was blazing crimson and 
gold, and the mountains behind us were 
growing purple when we entered the little 
settlement where the Bishop lives. We drove 
briskly through the scattered, straggling little 
village, past the store and the meeting-house, 

258 




- / 



MRS. LOUDERER AND MRS. O'SHAUGHNESSY 



AMONG THE MORMONS 

and drew up before the dwelling of the 
Bishop. The houses of the village were for 
the most part small cabins of two or three 
rooms, but the Bishop's was more preten- 
tious. It was a frame building and boasted 
paint and shutters. A tithing-office stood 
near, and back of the house we could see a 
large granary and long stacks of hay. A bunch 
of cattle was destroying one stack, and Mrs. 
O'Shaughnessy remarked that the tallow from 
those cattle should be used when the olive oil 
gave out at their anointings, because it was 
the Bishop's cattle eating consecrated hay. 

We knocked on the door, but got no an- 
swer. Mr. Beeler went around to the back, 
but no one answered, so we concluded we 
would have to try elsewhere for shelter. Mrs. 
O'Shaughnessy comforted me by remarking, 
"Well, there ain't a penny's worth of differ- 
ence in a Mormon bishop and any other Mor- 
mon, and D is not the only polygamist 

by a long shot." 

We had just turned out of the gate when a 
259 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

lanky, tow-headed boy about fourteen years 
of age rode up. We explained our presence 
there, and the boy explained to us that the 
Bishop and Aunt Debbie were away. The 
next best house up the road was his " Maw's," 
he said; so, as Mr. Beeler expected to stay 
with a friend of his, Mrs. O'Shaughnessy and 
I determined to see if "Maw" could accom- 
modate us for the night. 

Mr. Beeler offered to help the boy get the 
cattle out, but he said, "No, Paw said it 
would not matter if they got into the hay, 
but that he had to knock off some poles on 
another part of the stockyard so that some 
horses could get in to eat." 

"But," I asked, "isn't that consecrated 
hay? — is n't it tithing?" 

"Yes," he said, "but that won't hurt a 
bit, only that old John Ladd always pays his 
tithe with foxtail hay and it almost ruins 
Paw's horses' mouths." 

I asked him if his father's stock was sup- 
posed to get the hay. 

260 



AMONG THE MORMONS 

"No, I guess not," he said, "but they are 
always getting in accidental like." 

We left him to fix the fence so the horses 
could get in "accidental like," and drove the 
short distance to "the next best house." 

We were met at the door by a pleasant- 
faced little woman who hurried us to the fire. 
We told her our plight. " Why, certainly you 
must stay with me," she said. "I am glad 
the Bishop and Deb are away. They keep all 
the company, and I so seldom have any one 
come; you see Debbie has no children and 
can do so much better for any one stopping 
there than I can, but I like company, too, 
and I am glad of a chance to keep you. You 
two can have Maudie's bed. Maud is my 
oldest girl and she has gone to Ogden to visit, 
so we have plenty of room." 

By now it was quite dark. She lighted a 
lamp and bustled about, preparing supper. 
We sat by the stove and, as Mrs. O'Shaugh- 
nessy said, "noticed." 

Two little boys were getting in wood for 
261 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

the night. They appeared to be about eight 
years old; they were twins and were the 
youngest of the family. Two girls, about ten 
and twelve years old, were assisting our host- 
ess; then the boy Orson, whom we met at 
the gate, and Maud, the daughter who was 
away, made up the family. They seemed a 
happy, contented family, if one judged by 
appearance alone. After supper the children 
gathered around the table to prepare next 
day's lessons. They were bright little folks, 
but they mingled a great deal of talk with 
their studies and some of what they talked 
was family history. 

"Mamma," said Kittie, the largest of the 
little girls, "if Aunt Deb does buy a new coat 
and you get her old one, then can I have 
yours?" 

"I don't know," her mother replied; "I 
should have to make it over if you did take 
it. Maybe we can have a new one." 

" No, we can't have a new one, I know, for 
Aunt Deb said so, but she is going to give me 
262 



AMONG THE MORMONS 

her brown dress and you her gray one; she 
said so the day I helped her iron. We '11 have 
those to make over." 

For the first time I noticed the discon- 
tented lines on our hostess's face, and it sud- 
denly occurred to me that we were in the 
house of the Bishop's second wife. Before I 
knew I was coming on this journey I thought 
of a dozen questions I wanted to ask the 
Bishop, but I could never ask that care- 
worn little woman anything concerning their 
peculiar belief. However, I was spared the 
trouble, for soon the children retired and the 
conversation drifted around to Mormonism 
and polygamy; and our hostess seemed to 
want to talk, so I just listened, for Mrs. 
O'Shaughnessy rather likes to " argufy " ; but 
she had no argument that night, only her 
questions started our hostess's story. 

She had been married to the Bishop not 

long before the manifesto, and he had been 

married several years then to Debbie. But 

Debbie had no children, and all the money 

263 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

the Bishop had to start with had been his first 
wife's ; so when it became necessary for him 
to discard a wife it was a pretty hard ques- 
tion for him because a little child was coming 
to the second wife and he had nothing to pro- 
vide for her with except what his first wife's 
money paid for. The first wife said she would 
consent to him starting the second, if she 
filed on land and paid her back a small sum 
every year until it was all paid back. So he 
took the poor "second," after formally re- 
nouncing her, and helped her to file on the 
land she now lives on. He built her a small 
cabin, and so she started her career as a 
1 ' second . " I suppose the ' ' first ' ' thought she 
would be rid of the second, who had never 
really been welcome, although the Bishop 
could never have married a "second" with- 
out her consent. 

"I would never consent," said Mrs. 
O'Shaughnessy. 

"Oh, yes, you would if you had been raised 
a Mormon," said our hostess. "You see, we 
264 



AMONG THE MORMONS 

were all of us children of polygamous parents. 
We have been used to plural marriages all 
our lives. We believe that such experience 
fits us for our after-life, as we are only prepar- 
ing for life beyond while here." 

"Do you expect to go to heaven, and do 
you think the man who married you and then 
discarded you will go to heaven too?" asked 
Mrs. O'Shaughnessy. 

"Of course I do," she replied. 

"Then," said Mrs. O'Shaughnessy, "I am 
afraid if it had been mysilf I'd have been 
after raising a little hell here intirely." 

Our hostess was not offended, and there 
followed a long recital of earlier-day hard 
times that you would scarcely believe any 
one could live through. It seems the first 
wife in such families is boss, and while they 
do not live in the same homes, still she can 
very materially affect the other's comfort. 

Mrs. O'Shaughnessy asked her if she had 
married again. 

She said, "No." 

265 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

"Then," said Mrs. O'Shaughnessy, " whose 
children are these?" 

"My own," she replied. 

Mrs. O'Shaughnessy was relentless. "Who 
is their father?" she asked. 

I was right sorry for the poor little woman 
as she stammered, "I — I don't know." 

Then she went on, "Of course I do know, 
and I don't believe you are spying to try 
to stir up trouble for my husband. Bishop 
D is their father, as he is still my hus- 
band, although he had to cast me off to save 
himself and me. I love him and I see no 
wrong in him. All the Gentiles have against 
him is he is a little too smart for them. 'T was 
their foolish law that made him wrong the 
children and me, and not his wishes." 

"But," Mrs. O'Shaughnessy said, "it 
places your children in such a plight; they 
can't inherit, they can't even claim his name, 
they have no status legally." 

"Oh, but the Bishop will see to that," the 
little woman answered. 
266 



AMONG THE MORMONS 

Mrs. O'Shaughnessy asked her if she had 
still to work as hard as she used to. 

"No, I don't believe I do," she said, " for 

since Mr. D has been Bishop, things 

come easier. He built this house with his 
own money, so Deb has nothing to do with 
it." 

I asked her if she thought she was as happy 
as " second" as she would be if she was the 
only wife. 

"Oh, I don't know," she said, "perhaps 
not. Deb and me don't always agree. She 
is jealous of the children and because I am 
younger, and I get to feeling bad when I 
think she is perfectly safe as a wife and has 
no cares. She has everything she wants, and 
I have to take what I can get, and my chil- 
dren have to wait upon her. But it will all 
come right somewhere, sometime," she ended 
cheerfully, as she wiped her eyes with her 
apron. 

I felt so sorry for her and so ashamed to 
have seen into her sorrow that I was really 
267 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

glad next morning when I heard Mr. Beeler's 
cheerful voice calling, "All aboard!" 

We had just finished breakfast, and few 

would ever guess that Mrs. D knew a 

trial ; she was so cheerful and so cordial as she 
bade us good-bye and urged us to stop with 
her every time we passed through. 

About noon that day we reached the rail- 
road. The snow had delayed the train farther 
north, so for once we were glad to have to 
wait for a train, as it gave us time to get 
a bite to eat and to wash up a bit. It was 
not long, however, till we were comfortably 
seated in the train. I think a train ride might 
not be so enjoyable to most, but to us it 
was a delight; I even enjoyed looking at the 
Negro porter, although I suspect he expected 
to be called Mister. I found very soon after 
coming West that I must not say "Uncle" or 
"Aunty" as I used to at home. 

It was not long until they called the name 
of the town at which we wanted to stop. 
Mrs. O'Shaughnessy had a few acquaintances 
268 



AMONG THE MORMONS 

there, but we went to a hotel. We were both 
tired, so as soon as we had supper we went to 
bed. The house we stopped at was warmer 
and more comfortable than the average hotel 
in the West, but the partitions were very 
thin, so when a couple of " punchers," other- 
wise cowboys, took the room next to ours, we 
could hear every word they said. 

It appears that one was English and the 
other a tenderfoot. The tenderfoot was in 
love with a girl who had filed on a homestead 
near the ranch on which he was employed, 
but who was then a waitress in the hotel we 
were at. She had not seemed kind to the 
tenderfoot and he was telling his friend about 
it. The Englishman was trying to instruct 
him as to how to proceed. 

" You need to be very circumspect, Johnny, 
where females are concerned, but you must 
n't be too danged timid either." 

" I don't know what the devil to say to her; 
I can barely nod my head when she asks me 
will I take tea or coffee; and to-night she 
269 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

mixed it because I nodded yes when she said, 
1 tea or coffee,' and it was the dangdest mess I 
ever tried to get outside of." 

"Well," the friend counseled, "you just 
get her into a corner some'eres and say to 'er, 
'Dearest 'Attie, I hoffer you my 'and hand 
my 'eart.'" 

"But I can't" wailed Johnny. "I could 
never get her into a corner anyway." 

"If you can't, you're not hold enough to 
marry then. What the 'ell would you do with 
a woman in the 'ouse if you could n't corner 
'er? I tell 'e, women 'ave to 'ave a master, 
and no man better tackle that job until 'e 
can be sure 'e can make 'er walk the chalk- 
line." 

"But I don't want her to walk any line; I 
just want her to speak to me." 

" Dang me if I don't believe you are locoed. 
Why, she 's got 'e throwed hand 'og-tied now. 
What d'e want to make it any worse for?" 

They talked for a long time and the Eng- 
lishman continued to have trouble with his 
270 



AMONG THE MORMONS 

h's; but at last Johnny was encouraged to 
"corner "car" next morning before they left 
for their ranch. 

We expected to be astir early anyway, and 
our curiosity impelled us to see the outcome 
of the friend's counsel, so we were almost the 
first in the dining-room next morning. A 
rather pretty girl was busy arranging the 
tables, and soon a boyish-looking fellow, 
wearing great bat- wing chaps, came in and 
stood warming himself at the stove. 

I knew at once it was Johnny, and I saw 
"'Attie" blush. The very indifference with 
which she treated him argued well for his 
cause, but of course he did n't know that. So 
when she passed by him and her skirt caught 
on his big spurs they both stooped at once to 
unfasten it ; their heads hit together with such 
a bump that the ice was broken, although 
he seemed to think it was her skull. I am 
sure there ought to be a thaw after all his 
apologies. After breakfast Mrs. O'Shaugh- 
nessy went out to see her friend Cormac 
271 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

OToole. He was the only person in town 
we could hope to get a team from with which 
to continue our journey. This is a hard coun- 
try on horses at best, and at this time of the 
year particularly so ; few will let their teams 
go out at any price, but Mrs. O'Shaughnessy 
had hopes, and she is so persuasive that I felt 
no one could resist her. There was a drum- 
mer at breakfast who kept "cussing" the 
country. He had tried to get a conveyance 
and had failed; so the cold, the snow, the 
people, and everything else disgusted him. 

Soon Mrs. O'Shaughnessy returned, and 
as the drummer was trying to get out to 

E , and that was our destination also, 

she made her way toward him, intending to 
invite him to ride with us. She wore over her 
best clothes an old coat that had once be- 
longed to some one of her men friends. It had 
once been bearskin, but was now more bare 
skin, so her appearance was against her; she 
looked like something with the mange. So 
Mr. Drummer did not wait to hear what she 
272 



AMONG THE MORMONS 

was going to say but at once exclaimed, " No, 
madam, I cannot let you ride out with me. I 
can't get a rig myself in this beastly place." 
Then he turned to a man standing near and 
remarked, "These Western women are so 
bold they don't hesitate to demand favors." 

Mrs. O'Shaughnessy's eyes fairly snapped, 
but she said nothing. I think she took a ma- 
licious delight in witnessing the drummer's 
chagrin when a few moments later our com- 
fortable sleigh and good strong team appeared. 

We were going to drive ourselves, but we 
had to drive to the depot for our suit-cases ; 
but when we got there the ticket-office was 
not open, so the agent was probably having 
his beauty sleep. There was a fire in the big 
stove, and we joined the bunch of men in the 
depot. Among them we noticed a thin, con- 
sumptive-looking fellow, evidently a stranger. 

Very soon some men began talking of some 

transaction in which a Bishop B was 

concerned. It seemed they did n't admire 

the Bishop very much; they kept talking of 

273 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

his peculiarities and transgressions, and men- 
tioned his treatment of his wives. His "sec- 
ond," they said, was blind because of cata- 
racts, and, although abundantly able, he left 
her in darkness. She had never seen her two 
last children. Some one spoke up and said, 
"I thought polygamy was no longer prac- 
ticed." Then the man explained that they no 
longer contracted plural marriages, but that 

many kept all their wives and B still had 

both of his. He went on to say that although 
such practice is contrary to law, it was almost 
impossible to make a case against them, for 
the women would not swear against their 

husbands. B had been arrested once, 

but his second swore that she did n't know 
who her children's father was, and it cost the 
sheriff his office the next election. 

Mrs. O'Shaughnessy spoke to an acquaint- 
ance of hers and mentioned where we were 
going. In a short while we got our suit-cases 
and we were off, but as we drove past the 
freight depot, the stranger we had noticed 
274 



AMONG THE MORMONS 

came down the steps and asked us to let him 
ride out with us. I really felt afraid of him, 
but Mrs. O'Shaughnessy thinks herself a 
match for any mere man, so she drew up and 
the man climbed in. He took the lines and 
we snuggled down under the robes and lis- 
tened to the runners, shrill screeching over 
the frozen surface. 

We had dinner with a new settler, and 
about two o'clock that afternoon we over- 
took a fellow who was plodding along the 

road. His name was B , he said, and he 

pointed out to us his broad fields and herds. 
He had been overseeing some feeders he had, 
and his horse had escaped, so he was walking 
home, as it was only a couple of miles. He 
talked a great deal in that two-mile trip ; too 
much for his own good, it developed. 

For the first time since B climbed into 

our sleigh, the stranger spoke. " Can you tell 
me where Mrs. Belle B lives?" he asked. 

"Why, yes," our passenger replied. "She 
is a member of our little flock. She is slightly 
275 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

related to me, as you perhaps noticed the 
name, and I will show you to her house." 

"Just how is she related to you?" the 
stranger asked. 

"That," the man replied, "is a matter of 
protection. I have given her the protection 
of my name." 

"Then she is your wife, is she not?" the 
stranger asked. 

"You must be a stranger in this country," 
the man evaded . ' ' What is your name ? ' ' 

But the stranger did n't seem to hear, and 
just then we came opposite the residence of 
the Bishop, and the man we had picked up in 
the road said, "That is my home, won't you 
get out and warm? My wife will be glad to 
get acquainted with you ladies." 

We declined, as it was only a short distance 
to the house of the man Mrs. O'Shaughnessy 
had come to see, so he stayed in the sleigh to 
show the stranger to the house of Mrs. Belle 

B . I can't say much for it as a house, 

and I was glad I did n't have to go in. The 
276 



AMONG THE MORMONS 

stranger and B got out and entered the 

house, and we drove away. 

Next morning, as we returned through the 
little village, it was all excitement. Bishop 

B had been shot the night before, just 

as he had left the house of Mrs. Belle B , 

for what reason or by whom no one knew; 
and if the Bishop knew he had not told, for 
he either would not or could not talk. 

They were going to start with him that day 
to the hospital, but they had no hopes of his 
living. 

When we came to Mrs. Belle's house, Mrs. 
O'Shaughnessy got out of the sleigh and 
went into the house. I could hear her sooth- 
ing voice, and I was mighty glad the poor, 
forlorn woman had such a comforter. 

I was so very glad to get home. How good 
it all looked to me! " Poop o' Roome" has a 
calf, and as we drove up to the corral Clyde 
was trying to get it into the stall with the 
rest. It is " Poop's " first calf, and she is very 
277 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

proud of it, and objected to its being put 
away from her, so she bunted at Clyde, and 
as he dodged her, the calf ran between his feet 
and he sat down suddenly in the snow. I 
laughed at him, but I am powerfully glad he 
is no follower of old Joseph Smith. 

Mrs. Louderer was enjoying herself im- 
mensely, she loves children so much. She 
and Clyde hired the "Tackier" — so called 
because he will tackle any kind of a job, 
whether he knows anything about it or not — 
to paper the room. He thinks he is a great 
judge of the fitness of things and of beauty. 
The paper has a stripe of roses, so Tackier 
reversed every other strip so that some of 
my roses are standing on their heads. Roses 
don't all grow one way, he claims, and so his 
method "makes 'em look more nachul like." 

A little thing like wall-paper put on upside 
down don't bother me; but what would I do 
if I were a "second"? 

Your loving friend, 

Elinore Rupert Stewart. 



XXVI 

SUCCESS 

November, 19 13. 

Dear Mrs. Coney, — 

This is Sunday and I suppose I ought not 
to be writing, but I must write to you and 
I may not have another chance soon. Both 
your letters have reached me, and now that 
our questions are settled we can proceed to 
proceed. 

Now, this is the letter I have been wanting 
to write you for a long time, but could not 
because until now I had not actually proven 
all I wanted to prove. Perhaps it will not inter- 
est you, but if you see a woman who wants to 
homestead and is a little afraid she will starve, 
you can tell her what I am telling you. 

I never did like to theorize, and so this 
year I set out to prove that a woman could 
ranch if she wanted to. We like to grow pota- 
279 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

toes on new ground, that is, newly cleared 
land on which no crop has been grown. Few 
weeds grow on new land, so it makes less work. 
So I selected my potato-patch, and the man 
ploughed it, although I could have done that 
if Clyde would have let me. I cut the pota- 
toes, Jerrine helped, and we dropped them 
in the rows. The man covered them, and 
that ends the man's part. By that time the 
garden ground was ready, so I planted the 
garden. I had almost an acre in vegetables. 
I irrigated and I cultivated it myself. 

We had all the vegetables we could pos- 
sibly use, and now Jerrine and I have put in 
our cellar full, and this is what we have: one 
large bin of potatoes (more than two tons), 
half a ton of carrots, a large bin of beets, one 
of turnips, one of onions, one of parsnips, and 
on the other side of the cellar we have more 
than one hundred heads of cabbage. I have 
experimented and found a kind of squash 
that can be raised here, and that the ripe 
ones keep well and make good pies ; also that 
280 



SUCCESS 

the young tender ones make splendid pickles, 
quite equal to cucumbers. I was glad to 
stumble on to that, because pickles are hard 
to manufacture when you have nothing to 
work with. Now I have plenty. They told 
me when I came that I could not even raise 
common beans, but I tried and succeeded. 
And also I raised lots of green tomatoes, and, 
as we like them preserved, I made them all up 
that way. Experimenting along another line, 
I found that I could make catchup, as deli- 
cious as that of tomatoes, of gooseberries. I 
made it exactly the same as I do the tomatoes 
and I am delighted. Gooseberries were very 
fine and very plentiful this year, so I put up 
a great many. I milked ten cows twice a day 
all summer; have sold enough butter to pay 
for a year's supply of flour and gasoline. We 
use a gasoline lamp. I have raised enough 
chickens to completely renew my flock, and 
all we wanted to eat, and have some fryers 
to go into the winter with. I have enough 
turkeys for all of our birthdays and holidays. 
281 



A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 

I raised a great many flowers and I worked 
several days in the field. In all I have told 
about I have had no help but Jerrine. Clyde's 
mother spends each summer with us, and she 
helped me with the cooking and the babies. 
Many of my neighbors did better than I did, 
although I know many town people would 
doubt my doing so much, but I did it. I have 
tried every kind of work this ranch affords, 
and I can do any of it. Of course I am extra 
strong, but those who try know that strength 
and knowledge come with doing. I just love 
to experiment, to work, and to prove out 
things, so that ranch life and "roughing it" 
just suit me. 



THE END 



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